Blades of Light & Darkness
by kylesentient
Summary: Freed of the shackles that bound him to Alaya, Emiya finds himself stranded in the middle of a desert with nothing on himself nor any idea of what has happened to him. Completely lost and out of his bounds, he stumbles into a galaxy far, far away, full of mysteries the likes of which he had never seen before.
1. Stranded

He stood there, on the hill overlooking the expanse of trees and bushes far below. His muscles twitched, the remains of an old Chinese blade falling from his grasp and fading into particles of light before even hitting the ground.

A drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin and drawing a thin red line.

Weakly, he wiped the blood off his mouth with his bruised hand. The one that he could still move, anyway.

He heard a gasp behind him and turned around.

There she stood, in all her glory. The girl– no, woman, that he came to call his master.

She stared at him with such a fragile and unbelieving expression, as if he would disappear the moment she looked away.

"Archer…" she called, hesitating as to whether to take a step towards him or not.

He smiled at her, fighting against fatigue and exhaustion as best he could to relive her wariness.

He could hear her sob, even as she angled her head towards the ground and hid her face behind her hands.

When was it that he last had someone cry for him? It all felt so far away.

He could feel his body disintegrating, the will of Gaia already pressuring his exhausted core into fading away. He had a few more minutes at best.

He mustered what little strength he still had and shuffled towards her. His steps were incoherent and his vision waning, but he still soldiered on until he stood right in front of her.

"Rin." He called.

She jerked her head to look up to him, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"Ri—"

She jumped into his chest, and he cursed under his breath at the sudden contact. _This girl…_

He couldn't feel her tears through his armored chest, but he felt her shake and tremble with every breath she took.

He hesitated as to what to do for a moment, before wrapping his good arm around her back and pulling her into a hug.

She stiffened for a fraction of a second, but soon relaxed into his hold. Her legs gave way beneath her but Archer was there to catch her.

He crouched, still holding the girl in his arm and letting her knees rest on the soft grass beneath.

Their embrace lasted for too short a time, and when he tried to pull away, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Rin—"

She cut him off before he could speak as she sealed his lips with her own, pulling with her arms to make it harder for him to pull away. It was futile, and they both knew it. He was still a servant, even though most of his strength had already left him. He could have broken away at any moment, but he didn't. He indulged her in their last moment of intimacy and leaned further into the embrace.

It was a simple, chaste kiss. Yet he could feel her emotions through it. The strength with which she pressed against him, the passion in the way her hands pressed against his neck. The wetness of her tears against his bruised cheeks.

They had fought through this war and survived it. Against all odds, Tohsaka Rin was the winner of the fifth Holy Grail War.

The intimacy came to a close and she pulled away, eyes still teary and avoiding his gaze.

No words were spoken, for none were needed. They had fought as Master and Servant, comrades in a Battle Royale that had bested mythical beasts and legendary heroes. They had learned each other's ways, one through observation and memories of a time long past, the other through reminiscing dreams and trust born of mutual acceptance and reliance.

Her hand brushed against his and she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "Will I ever see you again?"

He sighed. _I doubt it._ "Perhaps," he said, "Make a big enough fuss and Alaya might just send me after you." He finished with a smirk.

She feebly punched his arm and pouted. "Very funny."

He stood up, his hand grasping hers as he helped her to her feet.

He took a few steps back, out of her grasp as she reached for him again.

She opened her mouth, before freezing in place as motes of light started shedding away at his back.

"Look after yourself," He said, his voice barely audible as the winds picked up and rustled the leaves. "And don't let that fool end up like me." He added, waving his hand and bidding her farewell.

She took a couple shaking steps towards him before she stopped, hands clutching at her chest and shoulders heaving.

She looked to the ground before looking up, her lips curling into a smile despite the tears trailing down her cheeks.

She nodded.

He smiled, as the last of his astral being vanished to the wind, leaving behind the saddened and broken form of his companion.

"Archer!" She called, before collapsing to the ground and sobbing into her hands.

* * *

…

…

The faintest of lights sparked within an ocean of darkness. The smallest wisp of consciousness of a being long since put to rest flaring to life.

…How long had it been? How long had he been asleep?

He opened his eyes, only to be met with a vast expanse of nothingness, rippling and swaying like currents under the seas.

He closed his eyes and focused inside. The gears in his soul, long since rusted by the eons, crumbled to dust as the vastness of his consciousness materialized far below him.

He opened his eyes again and willed himself to fall. He landed on his feet, the impact barely noticeable in a land where he was the master.

His gaze locked on an unfamiliar sight.

Where once stood a hill of broken swords and a rusty sky, was now a vastness of green blades and a sky so blue and clear.

He took a step forward, his bare foot brushing against the soft grass underneath him, and stopped.

He looked at his feet, slowly going up his legs and torso, before he brought his hands in front of his eyes. He blinked, before reaching for his head and plucking a hair from on top.

He blinked again.

Small limbs, tanned skin and gray hair. _What's the meaning of this?_ He frowned.

He looked around again, his frown deepening.

Everything was different. Every single detail he remembered from his time _before_ had changed. The only thing that remained was the blades thrust into the ground, anchors to his essence and proof of his being.

He reached out for the pommel of a sword, a common blade like so many others, and pulled.

The sword flew through the air and towards him. He caught it in his hand, taking comfort in the weight of the blade and its familiarity. He swung it a few times, a smile starting to form on his face before he willed it away.

He dispelled the blade and moved through his domain.

The wind blew his hair and ruffled the grass around him, and he enjoyed every bit of it. His senses felt as if they had been dormant for an eternity, and he reveled in every bit of sensation and stimuli he could perceive.

He finally reached a familiar hill, once littered with corpses and broken swords, now the picture of calm and serenity.

He took a seat at the apex, enjoying the scenic sight that stretched far beyond the horizon.

He closed his eyes and let the corners of his lips curl upwards.

He had almost fallen to sleep when _something_ tugged at the edges of his consciousness. He opened his eyes and stood to his full height.

He scanned his surroundings, taking in every single detail and analyzing every single blade around him.

Now that he thought about it… _What am I even doing here?_ He wondered. _What woke me up? Why does Unlimited Blade Works look so different?_

His frown deepened, but before he could even think about it, everything shattered around him.

The ground started to break, large ridges and holes forming, stretching from under his feet and all the way to the horizon like a web.

The sky cracked, the blue of its vastness quickly turning red, like embers sizzling on the surface of crispy clear water. Thunder clapped through the air, crashing onto the ground and coursing through the blades thrust into it.

But more than that, his body felt as if it was on fire. Like lines of molten steel rushing through his veins and filling every pore of his skin. He gasped, eyes wide and hands grasping at his sides as he fell to his knees. He couldn't scream. He couldn't cry.

Every inch of his body felt out of his control.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his circ—

A blade burst through his chest, piercing his skin and squirting blood all over the grass around him.

 _What in the—_

A twisted dagger burst out of his leg, piercing the hand resting on it in the process and locking it in place.

He fell forward, still kneeling when his head hit the grass.

All around him, his reality marble crumbled to pieces, the clouds in the sky turning into molten lava slowly oozing onto the ground and filling the broken landscape.

More blades pierced out of his skin. A slew of dirks through his shoulder, a lance through his thigh and the tip of a jagged blade made entirely of stone cleanly poking through his back. He felt his consciousness giving way under the intensity of the pain. His reign over his own soul rapidly ebbing away.

He wanted to give in, to let the darkness take him as every piece of his body crumbled under the piercing blades and the rumbling of the ground beneath him.

But just as his consciousness started to fade, just as the ground beneath his feet started giving way—

…All of it faded into darkness.

* * *

When he first came back to his senses, he had expected to be in some remote region of the world, faced with a convoy of slavers or dealing with the armed company of a local war chief. Heck, he had even expected to have to deal with a rogue magus or perhaps even a belligerent Apostle and his army of deleterious ghouls.

He could count the number of times he strayed out of those scenarios on the fingers of a single hand. A hand lacking several fingers.

What he hadn't expected, however, was to wake up under the shade of a giant dune of sand, in the body of a child, who couldn't be older than six, completely bare to the coarseness of the sand.

It had taken him some time to wrap his mind around his current situation, and he still couldn't believe what was happening.

For one, he was in a desert. He had fought among the dunes before, so that wasn't too worrisome, but the state of his body left him completely perplexed.

He had never, _ever,_ been summoned as a child before. Heck, even his skin tone and his hair –and probably his eyes, too— were still the same shade of his Servant self.

What had really grated on his nerves, however, was when he stood at the apex of a dune and tried to reinforce his eyesight for a better lookout.

He had found his body completely devoid of magical circuits, even when he tried the old method and went about turning one of his nerves into a circuit, he had failed.

Emiya gritted his teeth and massaged his temples, his eyes scanning the horizon for any trace of civilization.

He was out here alone, surrounded by nothing but sand as far as the eye could see. He had no supplies, no water and no clothes. He was completely bare, in more ways than one.

He sighed, reigning in his breathing as he closed his eyes. _Think. What's the best thing to do in this situation?_ He frowned.

The sun was beating at his back and the winds were hot. He couldn't very well stay out in the sunlight for too long, but he couldn't wait until the evening either. If a day in the desert could sizzle your skin, then a night in it could very well freeze your bones.

He lifted his hand over his eyes and squinted as he looked up to the sky. _First, I have to figure out where I am and what time it—_

He froze, his eyes going wide as he stared at the impossibility that glared right down at him.

 _What in the…_

* * *

Counter Guardian Emiya was flabbergasted. Completely, and utterly.

He had managed to find a piece of junk some ways out of his original spot and was using it as a makeshift protection against the sun.

So he walked, the flat chunk of metal leaving a trail behind as he tredged through the dunes.

He had no idea where he was going, nor what he should do.

The whole situation felt like a joke and he couldn't exactly tell whether it was a bad dream or not.

He could feel the hot metal through his fingers as he held the sheet of junk behind his back, but he ignored it. He had more pressing matters to think about, such as the two impossibilities glaring down at him and searing his covered back.

He still couldn't believe it.

He wheezed, stopping at the summit of a dune and placing his makeshift protection near the edge. He quickly sat himself on top before pushing with his hand and sliding all the way down to the bottom of the dune.

When he picked himself up, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the sky again.

There, staring down at him like a giant elephant in a tiny room, were two suns. Two globes of searing light and heat looking him right in the eyes.

He had to squint and rub at his eyes as he looked down.

He looked at his hands, then at his legs, before pinching his cheek.

The skin on his face turned red before he let go and shook his head.

"Impossible."

* * *

He didn't know how long it had been since he woke up among the dunes.

His hands and feet had gone numb and his throat was sore.

He could already feel his body giving in to exhaustion, but he soldiered on. He couldn't very well collapse in the middle of the desert. If the sun didn't roast him alive then the sand beneath him would cook him in his sleep.

He cursed under his breath. _Damn this body._ He had expected his shell to be similar to his old self. He was wrong. He body was that of a normal child, if a weak and malnourished one. The fact that he was bereft of magical circuits should have clued him in, but he was too tired and pressed to think straight.

He slid down another dune and arrived at the bottom of another. When he made to resume his walk, he stopped.

In the distance, not a few hundred meters away, was _something_ protruding out of the sand. A large rock, perhaps, that would provide him with much-needed respite.

With renewed vigor, he quickened his pace and soon came to a close not far from the object he spotted.

His eyes went wide and his voice caught in his throat. He dropped the sheet of metal behind him and shuffled his feet towards the _thing._

It was massive. Incomparable to anything he had ever seen before. Even taller and larger than any of the dunes he had come across.

The massive frame of steel jutting out of the sand, the three circular shaped cylinders protruding out of its back. It was something right out of a movie. A feat of engineering the likes of which would have been impossible for the humanity of his age to achieve.

Yet he could feel it was but the tip of an iceberg.

The rear of a giant stabbed right into the sand, slumbering beneath the dunes for eons upon eons.

His feet moved on their own, his mind still reeling from the marvel and awe he witnessed. He soon found himself at an arm's reach from the metallic structure.

His small body was completely dwarfed by the gigantic construct, and his hand found purchase on the surface of the metallic beast before he could stop himself.

He brushed aside the sand and pressed his forehead against the hard, coarse metal. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

For a moment, he had completely omitted his lack of circuits as he mouthed his aria and focused on his senses. His mind pictured the hypothetical hammer of a gun. He breathed in and the hammer was cocked. He breathed out and the hammer struck the primer.

He could feel _something_ reaching out to him, tugging at the edge of his soul, but it vanished as quickly as he tried grasping for it.

He opened his eyes, a frown tugging at his brows before looking up at the back of the steel behemoth.

There was no way he could scale all the way up to the top or even find a way into the thing. Not in his current state, anyhow.

He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He was supposed to be trying to survive, not getting into the entrails of some hulking beast of steel. Sure, he could possibly find something inside, some supplies perhaps, or even just some clothing, but given the state of the whole thing, he doubted he'd find anything inside.

He walked along the side of the structure, his hand brushing the metallic surface until he came upon a small protrusion hidden beneath a chunk of hardened sand. He pried it off with both hands and pulled at the protruding piece of metal. It took him a few tries, but, with a grunt, he managed to pull hard enough to bend the old and weathered alloy in a way that made it possible for his small body to pass through. He crouched into the small opening and legged his way through it.

It wasn't much of a passage, just a small space that opened on a web of intertwined cables and wires of differing sizes and colors. He guessed the passage served as some sort of maintenance hatch, but what did he know?

He looked up, following the series of tangled cables that disappeared further into the darkness. He wondered where the passage could possibly lead but put the thought away.

Thankfully, the opening he made seemed to be just at the right angle to allow for a small breeze to pass through occasionally.

He rested his head on the steel wall behind him and hugged his knees to his chest.

He didn't know where to go nor what to do, but if there was one thing Shirou Emiya could excel at, it was perseverance.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Hello there!

Thank you very much for taking the time to read through this chapter.

I'll be honest, this whole thing was written on the spur of a rare moment of inspiration and motivation. I usually spend my time lurking through the fandoms and reading fanfictions, so it's the first time I actually post anything.

If my English reads/sounds weird or incoherent to you, that's because I'm self-taught. English is my third language, but I like to think I'm pretty fluent.

If you have any remarks/reviews, I'd be happy to read them!


	2. Yellows and Blue

When he woke up, he had hoped everything he had seen earlier was but a dream. A figment of an over-imaginative psyche that had been put to sleep for longer than was humanly healthy.

Unfortunately, it seemed the universe was keen on shattering his expectations.

There, just at the edge of the narrow opening he had crawled through, against the backdrop of the starry night sky and a _duo_ of moons far into the distance he could perceive, two globes of pure, glowing yellow stared back at him through the darkness.

He stared back, still hugging his knees and not moving an inch.

The _eyes_ squinted, tilting at an angle, making some noise, as if some fabric was ruffled.

Slowly, Emiya sat straighter against the hard, metal wall –which was starting to feel uncomfortably cold— and schooled his expression.

 _Huh._ He had to wonder whether the thing in front of him was a person wearing a mask, or a strange creature whose eyes were large enough that the simple thought of what the rest of its body looked like caused him to shiver.

He didn't favor the latter thought, and since he had a fair amount of experience dealing with the supernatural, and the _thing_ in front of him couldn't possibly be a two feet tall, man-eating, sentient lizard, he rationalized that the eyes had to belong to a person. _What else could it be, anyway?_ He thought, a smirk starting to form on his face. _Finally some sign of civilization._

He lifted his hand and waved, causing the yellow globes to narrow and… shrink? He wasn't an authority as far as night vision goggles went, but he was fairly sure artificial optics couldn't squint like that.

He smiled, opening his mouth to greet the _person_ when the latter shrieked and quickly pulled away.

He had to cover his ears at the sudden noise, though he could still feel the metal vibrating as the thing bounded on and off of the metallic structure.

He cursed under his breath and jumped for the small opening. He put one leg through it and made to follow when he stopped.

Out there, where not a few hours ago there was only sand, now stood a statuesque vehicle, possibly twenty to thirty meters tall and wider than he had time to picture, resting on pairs of large caterpillar tracks. The thing looked like a giant bug made of rusted steel, flat on all sides and sharply angled at the front.

The shrieks broke him out of his thoughts, however, and when he looked further down the steel conveyance, he noticed a bevy of forms, cloaked and hooded, whose glowing yellow eyes followed the flailing shadow of the thing he had presumably scared.

The figure stopped in front of its kin, wheezing and panting as it rested its hands on its knees. Then it went into a tirade, speaking words that he didn't understand, in a voice that sounded out of this world, and pointing towards his location with a pointy edged staff.

The figures stilled and their voices muted when they turned to look his way, and for a moment, aside from the blowing winds and whistling sand falling from a nearby dune, no one made a sound.

His wide eyes blinked a few times before he looked down at his bare body and frowned. _Beautiful._ He thought. _Way to go, Me._

He opened his mouth, an apology on the tip of his tongue when the figures suddenly jumped and fled in an unorganized mess. Some ran back into the vehicle, whose back was open and revealed a mass of incongruous and disorderly junk stashed into wide and deep containers. Others ran right into the side of the steel transport and fell back from the unexpected shock. Some even tripped on nothing but sand and air and fell right on their faces.

He resisted the urge to palm his face and calmly lifted his other leg through the opening and stood on the edge of the small platform.

His gaze traveled across the immediate proximity, registering the tents that had been pitched around the vehicle and the small fire sitting in their midst.

A breeze picked up and caressed his naked body, causing him to shiver and hug his chest with his bare arms.

He considered jumping off his little perch and right next to the fire, but after remembering how his body looked and the fact that he had no circuits to reinforce his legs, he cautiously made his way to the encampment on foot instead.

As he got closer to the tents, he could see the flaps closing and the artificial lights inside winking out. He wondered what the whole fuss was about, but when he finally reached the fire and sat near it, he dispelled the thought.

A small, satisfied gasp escaped his lips as he stretched his hands and wiggled his fingers in front of the flames, reveling in the radiating heat slowly warming his body.

He looked around, noticing movement from the corner of his eyes. One of the small people poked its head from behind a corner of the vehicle –Which looked even larger from where he sat— and stared at him with its otherworldly eyes.

He stared back, now more confused than surprised, and tilted his head before waving at the cloaked person. The latter simply stared back for a moment that seemed to drag into the night, only broking out of its trance when Emiya's stomach gurgled audibly and caused the figure to push itself further into its corner.

After a while, however, Emiya turned to see another one of the cloaked people jump out of the back of the vehicle and take cautious steps towards him.

He watched it move as it came ever closer, and his eyes narrowed when it came close enough for the fire to cast its light on it. He wasn't sure whether he should have been surprised or not, at that point, but he kept his reaction from showing.

There, stood not a few meters away from him, was a creature garbed in a dark, brown cloak that hid its features, and staring back at him with wide, yellow— and decidedly not human— _eyes._

He coughed into his hand, cold sweat starting to form at the back of his head when other similar creatures started popping out of the dark and closing in on him.

He stood up slowly, his back straight and his hands by his waist. His eyes narrowed as he watched the small creatures gather in a circle around him and the other fellow still close-by.

They had an assortment of belts strapped over their shoulders with root only knows what inside. His eyes drifted to their hands. Most were empty-handed, though some had staves and what looked like oddly shaped rifles that seemed too big and heavy for their small bodies to handle.

He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes further when the creature that had approached him first edged closer. He watched as its eyes roamed over his small body, before stopping on his face.

The creature looked back to one of its kind and spoke in an alien tongue. The latter nodded after a while before throwing him a curious glance and running off outside of his sight, disappearing inside one of the tents.

Before long, the yellow-eyed fellow came running back holding a bundle of cloth in its small arms.

The other creature accepted the bundle and nodded, then moved closer to Emiya.

He took a step back. The creature stilled and tilted its head. It looked down at the cloth in its arms then motioned for him to take it.

He hesitated, throwing cursory glances around him before eventually taking a few cautious steps and accepting the bundle.

He stepped back and unwrapped it, revealing a thick robe similar to what the yellow-eyed folk wore. He looked back to the creature and it nodded. He could almost imagine it smiling the way its eyes squinted and its head tilted.

Emiya sighed then shrugged, dusting the robe off and donning it. The cloth felt heavy and coarse against his bare skin but he bore with it. He pulled the hood over his head, and felt himself nodding at the lighter, smoother fabric. _At least the hood isn't as thick as the rest of the robe._ He mused.

The creature clapped its tiny hands and cheered, causing the others to cheer back and jump in what he could only describe as excitement.

 _What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

Jawas. Or so those creatures were called. He had learned of it after a tiresome exchange of words and gestures that left him mostly confused.

They seemed to recognize him as a _Huma_ , and that was the only word that he heard them speak that came close enough to anything he could understand. _Is that what they call humans?_ He wondered. That meant, at least, that he hadn't stumbled into a world completely bereft of his kin, whatever semblance of relief that brought him.

He still couldn't believe it, but everything around him seemed to hammer in the fact that he was no longer on Earth. If not for the two suns that he failed not to notice in the morning, then for the three moons, one almost full and two crescents, that hung in the night sky as if mocking his disbelief.

He massaged his brows and shook his head. The sand beneath his feet was cold and rough, but the robe intimately wrapped around his body prevented the few grains carried by the winds from being too much of a discomfort.

A voice to his side pulled his attention, and he turned to face the jawa Clan-Chief. The short, yellow-eyed fellow's lips moved and its fingers danced through the air as it continued talking, seemingly unaware of its guest's inability to understand a word it spoke. Perhaps it was a trait of their species, but the way they spoke and the intonation of their voice had his brow twitch on more than one occasion.

He still couldn't figure out whether it was male or female, but he guessed it didn't really matter. He had more pressing things to worry about. Such as figuring out the why and how of his presence here, so far away from _home._

Another Jawa approached, holding a tray in its tiny, green, scaly hands. Once at arm's reach, the chief took a small cup and offered it to the human.

Emiya frowned, wondering for a second whether the aliens' diet was in any way similar to his, but his worries dissipated the moment he received the cup and stared at its contents.

His own reflection stared back, the silver of his eyes swishing within the clear, transparent surface of the liquid. _Water._ He dared hope.

He shrugged as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a cursory sip. The liquid washed down his parched throat like a torrential river breaching through the hot, rough sands of the desert. He downed the rest of the cup and extended it towards the jawa holding the tray, nodding towards the tankard hopefully filled with more life-sustaining fluid.

The Chief laughed, slapping its knee before taking the container and filling the boy's cup again.

He partook of the water slowly, one sip at a time, and after what felt like an eternity, his thirst ebbed away.

He gave the chief a small smile and nodded towards the other jawa, placing the cup and tankard on the tray. The creature nodded toward them before taking the platter and walking away.

The chief stood, stepping away from the comforting heat of the fire before turning back to him and motioning for him to follow.

The Jawa wasn't much taller than him, and as it led Emiya through the camp and towards the back of the strange vehicle, he had to wonder whether all of them were as small.

He put the thought away as they stepped onto the platform leading up to the conveyance. The various doors and strange contraptions built into its back looked like a consort of small houses carved into the iron. It reminded him of some old monuments from his world, of places dug into the dirt and sculpted into the stone. He shook his head when he realized how stupid the comparison was. He was fairly sure the Mesa Verde didn't have a bunch of junk and scrap lying around.

Other Jawas hurried around them, unloading equipment and sundries from the mammoth-sized tank and onto the sand. He wondered what use they had for all that gear until they stepped through a heavy iron door that opened upwards with a hiss.

Inside wasn't really much different. There was just as much junk and scrap in the many shelves and containers littering the room as there was outside. _What do they need all of this for, anyway?_ He mused as they waded through cramped passages and narrow corridors before taking a flight of stairs that led to the floor above. The whole interior was made of rusted iron and interweaving pipes and cables that sprouted from walls and disappeared into corners. The lights above their heads flickered and waned every then and now, and he hoped he wouldn't end up alone in a cramped corridor with creepy, yellow-eyed aliens as his only companions if the power mysteriously ran out.

Emiya kept a mental note of every single turn and passage they crossed, mentally drawing a map of the vehicle's innards and marking places of note and points of interest as his eyes wandered over the walls and open doors that hey passed. There were few jawas inside, huddled inside small rooms and tinkering with various pieces of broken tech and equipment he couldn't really make heads or tails of.

The chief led him to a room further down the corridor. They crossed the threshold of a door and he had to stop.

He frowned, his eyes locking on the form of a small person sitting by a corner and hugging their knees.

The blue-skinned alien lifted its head and stared past the jawa. Their gazes met and he had to make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open.

The alien's head tilted, causing the two tentacles that sprouted from the crown of its skull to fall over its shoulders.

 _Alright._ Emiya thought, his mouth falling open. _That's definitely an alien._

In his stupor, he almost missed the deep frown that sprouted on the creature's face before it pushed off the ground and lunged forward.

The jawa jumped out of its way, flailing its limbs and screaming in panic.

Emiya raised a brow, his legs shifting almost imperceptibly and his shoulders squaring in that familiar, instinctual way. His tiny body was weak and malnourished. He didn't know how far he could push it so he favored minimal effort.

The alien stomped into his guard, its eyes hard and cold and its teeth gritted and bared. It swept a fist at him, a slow, clumsy, overshot move that he avoided by taking half a step back and twisting slightly. The arm flew through the air parallel to his shoulders, and he threw his hand, grasping the alien's wrist and pushing against its arm with his other one. He heard it gasp, the air leaving its lungs as he kicked at its legs.

The alien fell nose first onto the hard, dirty floor. He put his foot on the small of its back and pressed with his weight, his hand still grasping her arm and pulling hard. It gasped, straining against his hold and trying to get away.

He tilted his head, raising a brow at the curious language the alien cried as it struggled. He had a feeling it was more curses than pleas.

He felt his hold give way when his muscles twitched, and he let go of the alien before taking a few cautious steps back.

The creature, its nose bruised and going purple, picked itself off the ground and jumped away from him, cradling its arm and nursing its face.

Tears brimmed in the corner of its purple eyes. Emiya stilled, giving the creature a look-over. His eyes traveled down its cut lips, following the lines of its neck and noticing the slight, gentle swell to its chest, beneath the tattered cloth wrapped around its bosom, leaving shoulders and stomach bare. Its legs were draped in slacks that looked too tight and small for comfort, the battered legs of which stopping just above the _girl's_ naked knees.

 _She's just a kid._ He grimaced.

He raised his arms, still sore from the effort. It was a wonder he could still move, if such minimal effort was enough to tire his muscles.

He waved at the alien and gave her a friendly smile.

The _girl_ froze, her eyes going wide as she looked him over once. Her shoulders sagged, a deep sigh escaping her lips. She said something then, and he wondered whether it was a curse or an apology. She shuffled towards the door, still cradling her arm and watching him from the corner of teary-eyed eyes.

He shifted his legs, giving her space, and watched as she passed. The alien brushed by, gave him one last look and a word, before stalking her way down the corridor and out of sight.

Emiya watched her go with a frown, before turning his attention to the other alien in the room.

The Jawa was huddled in a corner, its eye peeking from behind its fingers. When it made sure the girl had left, it dropped its arms and shook its head with what could only be a sigh.

* * *

Emiya fingered the small device in his hands. The circularly shaped band felt smooth to the touch. The small, singular box on one of its sides had a small piece of flexible material that extended like an appendage and reached upwards. His brows furrowed as he looked back at the jawa still rummaging through the contents of a large, rusted bin filled with junk.

The alien jumped back and landed on the floor, shaking off some strange bits and pieces of iron and plastics before holding its hands and presenting him with yet another strange gadget.

Emiya raised a brow, looking back at the jawa before taking the new device in his hand.

He put the two bands side by side, and for the life of him, he couldn't tell how they differed, aside from a few stains of oil and dust here and there.

The jawa spoke, its fingers mimicking its intent before pointing at the bands and taking one of them back. It stretched the circular rubber and pulled it over its head. He was amused when the alien nimbly placed the band around its neck without pulling the hood down. He wondered whether he would ever get to see what they looked like under their robes, but he guessed it wouldn't be easy to get a look. He could reach out and force the hood down, but he had a feeling the alien wouldn't take kindly to such an intrusion on its privacy.

The Jawa motioned for its neck, or the general area of it, anyway. It pushed a small button on the device and a small band of light came alive around the base of its neck. The weak, blue light wasn't strong enough to light up the face under the hood, but it was a good indication that the device still worked.

The alien nodded, waving its arms in his direction and motioning for him to speak.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Hello?"

The jawa nodded and waved a hand in front of his face, as if in greeting. He squinted his eyes and looked back at the other device in his hand. _What is this?_ He mused. The alien deactivated the gadget and removed it from its neck before placing it in his hand.

He looked back at the jawa, a question on the tip of his tongue before it waved a scaly hand at him in an inviting gesture. He shrugged, stretching the rubber band of one of the devices and pulling it over his head.

The material was cold and itchy on his skin, and the flexible appendage caressing the nape of his neck felt moist and slimy.

He hesitated when his finger stopped on the tiny button sticking out of the small box at the back of his neck. He looked at the jawa, who nodded back.

He shrugged and pushed the small nub, almost jumping when the soft extension behind his neck aligned with his vertebra, sticking to his skin as it stilled and bent along with his neck when he tried moving his head. "What is this?" He asked.

"Universal translator, this!" His head almost swiveled off his neck when he turned around, eyes going wide as he stared at the jawa. "Device works, yes?" It asked.

He stared back at the alien, his brow twitching before he shook his head and sighed.

"Too old, then." The jawa added, talking to itself rather than him.

"It works." Emiya said as he scratched the skin around his neck. "I understand you."

The jawa's face lit up –Or he imagined it doing so, at least— and it cheered. "Good. Good! Human understand Jawa now!"

He wondered whether the translator was functioning correctly. The jawa's prose sounded rough and lacking in structure. Perhaps it was a flaw inherent to the yellow-eyed aliens' tongue. Either way, he pushed the thought out of his mind and focused back on the device around his neck.

"This thing is impressive. Did you make it?" He asked the short alien.

"No, No! Jawa find translator in old junk. Didn't think it works." It said with a nod.

"Huh." Emiya hummed, fingering the strange device. _This place is getting stranger by the minute._

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_  
**

And that's it for chapter two. I hope you liked it. I actually had it ready for yesterday, though I wanted to wait until I reread it a couple times and changed some lines to make the whole more coherent. Again, I would appreciate any criticism. I'm reading some books in my spare time to help improve my writing, but it's taking time.

To those wondering about what timeline this is taking place in; it's neither the originals nor the sequels. Are you people familiar with Kotor? No? that's totally fine. This story will feature a mishmash of different elements and characters taken from various sources of the star wars legends, though it will mainly take place in the Old Republic era.

What are your thoughts?

Do you have any suggestions?

Leave a review!

 ** _Thanks for reading!_**


	3. Thawing the Ice

Emiya clicked his tongue and shook his head.

He opened his eyes, only to be met with the same scene as before. _How many times has it been?_ He wondered, shaking his sore arms before massaging his feet. The sand beneath him was coarse and rough, and he never liked it. It tended to get everywhere and ruin good equipment. Fortunately, the area had cooled down under the shade of the Jawa transport. _Sandcrawler,_ He reminded himself. The Jawas had introduced it as a bulky and sturdy vehicle, able to weather the elements and travel through the desert, even in the harshest of conditions.

He had been surprised when he took the time to tour the steel mammoth and explore it succinctly. From what he had discovered, it used to be serviced as a self-propelled base for specialized personnel during mining operations, and those had stopped decades ago.

Strangely enough, he seemed to have made a friend in the Jawa he had assumed to be the clan-chief, what with the way the other jawas seemed to defer to his judgment whenever a decision had to be made or the way they stopped to greet him whenever he passed. He had introduced himself as Javii, chief of the Tial'duners; _scavengers and repairjawas extraordinaires!_

The chief loved telling stories about his clan, and so had told him how they had acquired the Sandcrawler through a deal with one of the mining companies eager to sell away their equipment and get off the planet. The jawas were only too happy to buy it off their hands for a modicum of credits— the currency apparently used around here— and they had used it as their home ever since. They considered it the pride of the clan, and he thought it a wonder of technological achievement himself.

He had always had a fascination for mechanical constructs, and that passion had only grown over the years. He wished he still had his magical skills, however. _Imagine what I would learn if I_ _could analyze it._ He mused.

The winds picked up and he closed his eyes, his back straightening against the hard metal behind him like a blade thrust into the rock. His breathing took on a slower, more controlled rhythm, and his movements stilled. He reached within, his senses slowly shutting off as he focused on the world within himself. His reality marble was still there; he could _feel_ it. Like an ever-present mark etched deep within his being. Unlimited Blade Works was like an anchor. The linchpin of his soul; the crystallized proof of Emiya Shirou's beliefs.

He reached further within, tugging at the edge of his soul. He felt his mind brush against _something;_ the feeling of a presence, foreign yet growing increasingly familiar, inhibiting his inner perception. He reached for it, his hypothetical self grasping for the pervading veil that cloaked his soul. The presence pulled away, like a specter wrenching out of his grasp and mocking his attempts. His frown deepened as the game of tag continued.

After a while, he opened his eyes, a bead of sweat travelling down his brow and settling within the corner of his eye. He sighed, reaching for his face and wiping the sweat with the sleeve of his robes.

 _Yet another failure,_ He thought.

He stood up, dusting off his robes before heading for the back of the Sandcrawler.

His gaze shifted to the many jawas still busying themselves by the steel titan buried under the sand. _A star destroyer_ , some jawas had called it. A starship capable of faster-than-light travel; something straight out of a work of fiction. Now it was but the remains of an age past; a monument to the atrocities and losses suffered during a conflict that spanned planets and systems. _A war amongst the stars_ , as the jawas put it.

He had come to learn a great deal about this strange new world during the few days he had spent with the jawas. They had given him food, water, and lodgings out of the goodness of their hearts, and he had to thank his lucky star that he stumbled on the amiable creatures rather than some bloodlusty, xenophobic aliens with a sweet-tooth for human children.

He heard a shriek, and he turned his eyes to a jawa halfway stuck in the sand, the fuming vestiges of a pile of junk scattered around it. The alien cursed, digging itself out of the sand before giving the mound of scrap an annoyed kick. The Jawa screeched, nursing its leg before buckling under the weight of the junk that collapsed on top of it.

Emiya shook his head, snorting before his feet led him to the poor alien. He shook the pieces of junk off the jawa's back and helped it to its feet. The alien thanked him, bowing and pointing an accusatory finger at the pile of junk. Emiya shrugged, ignoring the jawa's blabbering and nodding along with a bemused smile. He would almost call these creatures cute, what with their loveable attitude and amusing antics.

He turned back once he made sure the alien was safe, and made his way towards the Sandcrawler. The heavy doors that led inside opened with a hiss, and he made his way through the narrow corridors and up the stairs until he reached the control room.

Few jawas were inside, busying themselves at the terminals and bulky screens scattered across the room. He noticed Javii standing by the window screens that opened up on the dunes of sand stretching far into the distance, a device of some kind in its hand.

He made his way to the front of the room, and he had to cover his eyes when the light of the sun glared at him through the thick windows of the cockpit.

The Jawa looked up when Emiya stepped next to it. "Ah, Emiya, friend! Welcome!"

Emiya smiled and nodded at the alien. "Hello, Javii." He said, throwing a glance at the device in the jawa's hand.

Javii lifted the small device for Emiya to see, revealing a rectangular shaped screen displaying a series of graphs and a wall of scrolling glyphs and symbols he couldn't understand. "Scavenging reports," the jawa said, "Storage rooms almost full. Soon will have to break camp."

Emiya nodded, turning his gaze to meet the jawa's eyes. "Where will you be headed next?"

The jawa turned to look beyond the window screens, its eyes narrowing. "Storm season has just begun," it said, "Have to take salvaged scrap back to city before coming back."

Emiya raised a brow. "Storm season?" He asked.

The jawa nodded. "Happens once a year," it said, "Wind digs out hunks of steel from the sea of dunes. Big treasures for jawas to salvage."

"Is that how you found me?" Emiya asked, looking out of the windows and staring at the seemingly infinite expanse of sand.

The jawa looked at him before following his gaze. "Yes. This the Hooka wastelands," it said, its fingers drumming on the edge of the device in its hands, "Very dangerous. Many jawas fall to sand dragons and tuskan raids. Only most ambitious can make it." It turned back, nodding at the other jawas scurrying about the room and fiddling with the terminals. "Javii's clan big and strong," It tapped its feet and pointed at the rattling floor, "Our Czer Dragon unstoppable. Can break rocks with hull and crush krayts with solid treads." Emiya noted the mirth in its voice before it turned serious again, "Some moons ago, saw big buried spaceship in the distance. Decided to set camp and found you." It said, gesturing towards the human, "You gave big scare to poor little Jolin. Won't come out of her mother's room, now." It finished with a laugh.

Emiya smiled, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, tell her I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare."

"No worries." The jawa said, nodding with what he assumed was a smile. "Does friend Emiya need anything?"

He turned to look at the alien before nodding. "Yes," he said, "I've been to one of the storage rooms on the lower levels. I've found some parts that I could use, if you don't mind me taking them."

The jawa tilted its head. "Droid parts?"

Emiya shrugged. "Perhaps. I'm not sure."

"If droid parts, friend Emiya can have them. Not very valuable. Mostly junk."

Emiya nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Javii."

The jawa nodded, its attention back on the small device in its hands. It flicked its fingers across the screen and a series of different symbols and letters appeared, expanding into lines of indecipherable texts and diagrams.

He turned and walked up to the door before the jawa hailed him.

"Friend Emiya, wait." The jawa walked up to him. "You child, yes?"

Emiya stared back, his brow raising and his eyes narrowing. "Yes?"

"You look like child, yes." The jawa said, waving its hands in front of the boy, "But you think like adults. Wasn't sure."

Emiya sighed, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. "Well, as you can see, I certainly don't look like an adult."

"Yes, yes. Of course." Javii said. "Have something to ask you. A favor."

Emiya nodded, prompting the jawa to elaborate. "Remember Twi'lek you met eight suns ago?"

 _Eight suns?_ Emiya mused. His gaze turned to the glaring duo of suns he could still perceive through the windows, before nodding. _Ah, four days ago?_

"You mean the blue-skinned alien?" He asked.

"Yes, the twi'lek." The jawa nodded. "Poor girl lost family to tuskan raiders. Found her starved and collapsed in desert. Took her in and gave her food and water." The jawa sighed before shaking its head. "Wouldn't talk to us. Wakes up every night screaming and crying."

Emiya frowned. He remembered the blue alien. His instincts had taken over, at the time, and he only noticed it was a child and female after he had countered her assault. She couldn't have been older than twelve, with the way her body curved and the slight swell to her chest, though he had no idea whether alien children developed the same way humans did.

"Could friend Emiya talk with child?" The jawa asked, prompting Emiya to stare at him with a raised brow. "You both children. Perhaps twi'lek would open up to you."

Emiya sighed. "You do remember how she jumped for my throat, yes? How can you expect her to open up to me of all people?"

"Twi'lek said her village attacked by tuskans and several humans. Said her father killed before her eyes by one of your kin." The jawa shrugged, "Perhaps she thought you one of them."

Emiya stared at the jawa for a moment, before he shrugged. "If I can help, I will." He said.

Javii nodded with the ghost of a smile, before patting Emiya's shoulder and turning back to his device.

* * *

He found her sat by one of the platforms that extended out of the Sandcrawler's back, her legs jutting out of the railings and dangling in the air.

He approached her, his steps light and easy. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.

Whether or not she noticed him approach, she didn't show it.

He took a seat on the ground some distance away from her. Far enough that he didn't invade her personal space, but close enough that he could talk to her without raising his voice.

He turned her way. She had her head resting between the bars of the railings, her twin tentacles reaching behind her back and her hands gripping the thin, solid poles vacantly. She looked tired and famished. Her exposed midriff was scrawny and bony, her arms were thin and her cheeks were hollow. What attracted his attention the most, however, were the eyes.

He had no doubt she would have looked cute under a different light, in different times. Right now, however, she looked like the haunted shadow of a ghost.

He had seen people like her, before. When he was still contracted to the will of humanity. The faces of starved orphans, children who had lost everything and had nothing to hope for. The wicked byproduct of war and lawless nature of wastelands.

He sighed, noticing how his knuckles had turned white where he gripped the railing.

He had never known how to deal with children. For most of his life, he had been a machine— a cold-blooded agent of Alaya, killing and slaughtering by the hundreds for the elusive promise of justice and fairness. He liked to think that he saved many more people in the process, but the faces of those he could have personally saved, those he had to abandon and leave behind in the pursuit of his beliefs; those faces that used to haunt him in his sleep reminded him of the heavy toll he had paid for his naïve belief in foolish ideals.

He couldn't possibly save everybody. He couldn't have had. But he could still try. The ghost of a memory crossed his mind, and he was reminded of a boy, hair the color of fire as they stood side by side, facing off against humanity's greatest hero.

Emiya sighed. _Wanting to save everyone is a foolish, impossible dream_ , he realized. _But it's a beautiful one._ He thought with a smile.

"Hey." He called.

She didn't answer, and he wondered whether or not she heard him at all.

He made to try again when her face twitched. Her irises moved, staring at him from the corner of her eyes without moving an inch. The moment dragged, and silence pervaded. He stared back, a small smile on his face. "Hello." He said.

The twi'lek tilted her head slightly. Her cracked lips moved, her voice coming out in a quiet whisper that his translator failed to pick up.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that." He said, hoping she understood basic, the common language on Tatooine.

The twi'lek's brow twitched and her haunted eyes hardened. "Leave me alone…" She said, voice hoarse and weak.

He frowned, hands tightening on the railings. _How am I supposed to handle this?_ He wondered before shaking his head with a deep sigh. _Choke her with kindness,_ He thought, _It worked on Illya._ He mused. What could possibly go wrong?

"I'm Emiya. What's your name?" He asked.

The twi'lek stared at him with those haunted eyes of hers. After a while, she turned back to stare at the starship buried under the sand.

Emiya sighed. _It's not going to be that easy._

He was about to try again when a deep, gurgling sound broke through the silence. He looked at the twi'lek and noticed the way she slouched further against the railing, failing to hide the slight coloration on her cheeks.

Emiya leaned forward, his brows furrowing before he smiled. He stood up, leaving the girl behind him as he made his way back inside the Sandcrawler.

* * *

The trip to the kitchens—or whatever came close for jawas— was short. It was trying to figure out the different ingredients and spices stashed in the many boxes and shelves that took most of his time. Fortunately, the jawas seemed to prefer fresh cuisine to the rations he had expected to find, and, as he looked over the ingredients he had chosen and aligned over a counter next to some sort of clunky, alien sink, he couldn't help but smile and nod in satisfaction.

He uncrossed his arms and threw a glance at the jawa beside him, tapping its feet on the floor and watching him with a pointed look. It had taken some effort to convince the alien to let him try his hand at some human cuisine, but after the promise of sharing some of his recipes, the jawa chef relented. He wished the alien could let him cook alone, however, and not stand beside him eying every one of his movements and huffing whenever it thought he was doing something wrong.

Emiya sighed, deciding to focus on the task at hand rather than the increasingly annoying jawa next to him.

He rolled up his sleeves and separated the ingredients into groups. _Time to get cooking._

* * *

She couldn't recall the last time she had slept.

She always ended up waking in a cold sweat, shaking and trembling like a leaf in a storm. The nightmares still haunted her, even during the day, when the light of the suns was supposed to keep the monsters away.

She remembered her mother, hugging and holding her in their last embrace, telling her that everything would be alright. She had lied. Everything was worse. Every single day was a like a bad dream.

Her tummy hurt, her lekku hurt, her head was hurting more and more with every passing day, and she hated every second of it.

Her quivering arms tightened around her legs as a single tear trailed down her cheek. She sniffed. She had promised dad to be strong, to face forward and never look back, but it was too hard. She cried until her eyes hurt whenever she was alone and no one was looking, and she tended to be by herself a lot.

She was glad the tears didn't come as easily anymore, though she wished her mouth didn't feel as dry.

Her sunken eyes flitted to the creatures digging in the sand, below her. The jawas had saved her from the heat of the desert, and had tried to help her when she woke up. She didn't like it. They should have left her to die in the dunes, to wither away like one of those dried lizards that dad and mom liked so much. She never really liked the stuff, but she never let it show. Now, though, she would have liked to have one.

A door hissed behind her, and she twitched. She didn't want to turn and look. What if it was one of those sand demons again? She hugged her legs closer to her chest and wished she had a hood to pull over her head. She felt her nails dig into her bare knees, and pressed her trembling lips to her legs.

She heard a pair of feet shuffle behind her and closed her eyes. It was one of those nightmares again, she knew it. It would go away once she was scared enough, like so many times before. She would just have to endure it.

A quiet voice entered her ears and she twitched. The sand demons never sounded so small…

She raised her head slowly, daring to take a peek over her shoulder, and her muscles relaxed when she noticed the small human from earlier standing behind her and holding something between his hands.

She tried to glare but her eyes were starting to feel heavy. She wasn't sure she could scare him away so she decided to ignore him. _He'll go away,_ She thought. _He'll leave me alone if I ignore him._

She turned back to stare through the railings, and almost jumped when she heard something hit the floor beside her. Her head swiveled, looking at the covered plate sitting between her and the human boy, who took a seat further down the platform.

She hugged her legs closer, her red-rimmed eyes boring into the boy's.

He stared back with a smile and waved at the tray between them. He extended his hand and reached for a small handle on top of the tray, lifting the cover and revealing the contents of the platter for the world to see.

Her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted. Her bloodshot eyes widened and her hand found purchase on her hollowed stomach. She sniffed once, the aroma wafting off of the majestic spectacle of smells and colors in front of her making her head turn and swim.

Her fingers twitched towards the food, and she caught herself when she looked back at the human. She hated that stupid smile on his face, and the way he nodded towards her.

She tried to retract her hand, to refuse the _offering—_ for what else could it be— but stopped when the wind blew _just_ right to bring the mouth-watering smell right into her nose. She twitched, her eyes glazing over when she looked at the food again.

Before she knew it, she was already holding the bowl in her hands, staring down at it and swallowing loudly. She licked her lips, her hand grasping the spoon and lifting a small dose of soup to her parched lips.

She almost dropped the bowl when the liquid touched the tip of her tongue, and an explosion of smells and flavors spread through her mouth and all the way to her head. Her vision swam for a second, before she caught herself and started at the food between her hands, taking one spoon after another.

"Eat slowly." She thought she heard the human say. She didn't care about him, not while she had this gift from the heavens between her hands.

It felt like all her exhaustion was washing away with every bit of food she took. It honestly tasted better than what mom used to make, and mom was the best cook ever.

Her hands stilled when she remembered her mother. Her limbs trembled and her eyes watered before she resumed eating, spilling spoonful after spoonful down her throat while the tears trailed down her cheeks.

She sniffed loudly once she was done, staring at the empty bowl with wet eyes and quivering lips. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and put the bowl back on the tray. Her hand was only halfway towards the plate when her vision swam and she felt her body fall. Something caught her on the way down, and she heard a soft clattering sound when something hit the flood besides her.

Her vision darkened, and she saw gray and brown at the corner of her vision before she closed her eyes. She felt herself relax, pushing against the soft pillow beneath her head and smiling at the sensation of something small and soft squeezing her shoulder and rubbing her head. She loved when mom gave her a lap pillow, and this one felt better than any she had ever had. She heard something—quiet words whispered in a soothing tone— and allowed herself to be taken by the blissfulness of sleep.

"…thanks, mom." She whispered, before her consciousness faded away.

* * *

Emiya stared at the girl sleeping soundly on his lap with a frown.

He had only planned to give her some soup to help deal with her lack of nutrition. He never expected her to collapse right after. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. The girl was exhausted; it was painfully obvious from the bags under her eyes and the way her limbs trembled. It was a wonder she had managed to stay conscious until now.

Emiya sighed, his hands caressing the young twi'lek's head and softly scratching her scalp. She reminded him of the sister he had only briefly known. The way she used to plop herself onto his lap whenever she was tired, or the way she would insist he brushes her hair whenever she came out of the bath. He frowned, shaking the memory out of his mind. The girl twitched in his lap and he released his frown.

"Everything is going to be okay." He whispered close to her ears. Though he quickly noticed that she had no ear to speak of. Instead, she had some strange, small conical protrusions at the sides of her head. He shrugged, _I shouldn't be getting surprised at this point._

He stared up at the sky, noticing the twin suns of Tatooine on their slow descent towards the horizon. It was bizarre how the rhythm of this alien planet reminded him of Earth. He was sure he could make a guess as to when the suns would be setting, but he digressed.

He lifted the twi'lek's head gently off his lap and slowly stood up. He crouched by her side and put his hands under her back and legs before he lifted her up in a princess carry. Her head found rest against his chest. Her breathing was calm and soft and her expression serene.

He smiled, an old feeling welling within his chest before he dispelled it. He entered the Sandcrawler, making his way through the corridors and towards the sleeping quarters. He had no idea where she usually slept, but he guessed any bed would do. The jawas gave him amused looks along the way, and he weathered them with a raised brow and a shake of his head.

When he walked into the sleeping quarters, he was relieved to find the room empty. He had learned of the jawas's inherent curiosity, and he didn't fancy having to tell them what led to this particular development.

He approached a bed by the corner of the room, far enough that the girl would be able to sleep without being disturbed by any passing jawa. He lowered her slowly onto the mattress, and pulled the soft sheet over her body, tucking it just under her chin.

He made to stand and walk away, but she tugged at his sleeve and refused to let go. For a moment, he thought her awake until he noticed the frown on her face and the quiver in her fingers. He sighed, rolling his eyes before taking her hand into his and sitting next to the bed. He softly caressed her head with his other hand and soothed her nightmares away.

"Shh," He whispered, "I'll be by your side. Nothing can harm you."

He heard a shuffle of feet behind him, and when he looked towards the door, he noticed several pairs of eyes poking through the frame. They ducked away the moment their gazes locked, and he sighed.

 _E rank luck indeed._

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_**

Mama Emiya uses **Delicious Cuisine**!

 _it's super effective!_

Hey there, guys. I hope you're all doing great. I wrote this chapter at two in the morning so some mistakes or inconsistencies may be expected. As always, I'd appreciate any review you guys would be willing to leave.

I've read all of the fifteen reviews posted so far and I must say, I'm speechless. I'm glad this modest story is appreciated, it means a lot to me. Thanks for the kind words, critics, and encouragements!

Look forward to the next chapter!

P.S: what do you guys think of the new cover? Can you guess what meaning it holds? ;)


	4. Dark Shadows & Sassy Droids

The warm liquid gleamed under the light of the setting suns, the hues of orange and red making the purple drops and stains of alien blood turn a bewitching shade of brown.

Her eyes turned to the two descending globes, far into the distance. One orange, and the other a darker shade of red. Tatooine was a hot pot of simmering sand. An infinite pool of rocks and dust stretching as far as the eye could see. She loathed it. The air was hot and parched, the food was tasteless and the locals too frail. A complete antithesis to Dromund Kaas.

The storm-covered planet had grown on her, she knew. She missed the crackling lightning, the huge, towering monuments and the ever present darkness, so potent she could taste it.

A burbled gasp brought her attention back to the fiend struggling against her, his pitiful whimpers distorted by the breathing mask sewn onto his face.

"You…!" He rasped, his voice coming out in a wet, cracking mess. "You mad wench!"

His fingers closed around the arm impaled through his chest, brushing against her skin and pinching with the strength of an infant. His feeble grip failed to push back the offending appendage, and he wheezed blood. Purple gashed through the spaces in his mask, trailing down his long, bony chin and staining her arm.

"You dare…" He croaked, "You dare do this to _me?!_ Master Nyri—"

Threads of electricity jolted through her arm, and the man spasmed, his throat struggling with the words that died in his throat. "Your master is far from here, apprentice." She said, her lips curling into a toothy smile. "And you are here. _Alone_."

The man's eyes flashed yellow, the red of his skin creasing into an enraged scowl.

She felt the darkness swirl around him, the Force whipping and circling at their feet, slithering up their forms like whirling clouds of dark miasma growing onto itself.

She pushed him off, pulling her arm free and sending him sprawling against the wall. His face hit the stone with a resounding snap, and she stamped the sole of her dark boot into the back of his head before he could stand.

He struggled, his hands flailing behind him, and she pushed. _Hard_.

His skull caved under her weight with a sweet, arousing crunch, smearing blood and saliva against the fissured wall.

She waited until the throes ceased, pushing more and more against him until she felt him go limp. She retracted her leg only when the coalescing darkness receded, and the body fell to the side, painting a trail of purple blood onto the wall.

She observed his remains with cold satisfaction, a few jolts of dark lightening sparking along her arm and evaporating the offending purple stains. She licked the blood on her bruised lip. It tasted of liquid tin.

The fiend had died like any other before. It had bled. It had whimpered. It had trembled in fear. _So much for your pure blood._

She crouched by the cooling corpse, her hands finding purchase on the small of the dead man's back. Her eyes narrowed. Dark energies swirled around her, invisible to the inept, yet clear to those with the gift.

Waves of dark red washed off of her hands like oozing lava, coursing through the dead meat and pooling blood in a web of liquid fire. She felt the force enter her and she closed her eyes, the cuts and bruises on her battered limbs sealing and healing with every passing breath.

When she opened her eyes, only the ashen dust of the man remained, the bones, too, having fallen to cinders.

She schooled her face into an emotionless frown as her hands sifted through the ashes, brushing aside the folds of clothing and scraps of armor. She soon found what she sought, and she took the cold, metal hilt into her hand.

She stood up, the cylinder—half the length of her arm— rolling between her fingers. She brought it up to her eyes, her vision roaming over the intricate symbols and runes carved onto the flinty steel. Her finger brushed against the small, crimson switch on the side, caressing the soft nub like a lover would her beau.

She smirked, putting the hilt away under the shadows of her cloak.

She kneeled back, gathering the ash-stained cloth and chinks of armor into a bag before getting to her feet.

She brushed off her hands and pulled a dark hood over her head, then turned and stepped away from the darkening alleyway.

Her eyes stopped on the long building standing proud in the distance, against sands and whistling winds.

She smiled, disappearing into the shadows like a disembodied wraith. _Let the hunt begin._

* * *

The twin suns had almost set by the time he opened his eyes.

He exhaled, letting himself slump further into his seat. The chair beneath him creaked under his small weight, its back leaning against one of the austere walls of the sleeping quarters. Bands of gold and rust colored light peeked through the small glassless windows fit into a wall, drawing mosaics of reds and oranges on the rusted floor.

He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. _How long have I been here?_ He yawned into his hand, the other taken by the alien child sleeping on the bed to his right.

He flexed his fingers, slowly so as not to perturb the sleeping twi'lek. His neck had gone sore and his arm was starting to feel numb, the muscles tingling as if hundreds of tiny blades rattled under his skin.

He had tried to pry his hand from the girl's grip, but she had only held on tighter, squeezing his small fingers with her own. Every now and then, she would whimper, her brows would knit together and her lips would quiver. He had given her a rub and a squeeze, then, and the specters of her trauma had relented, giving him time to rest and meditate by her side.

He glanced at her restful face, the way her lips curled upwards as she breathed softly.

For a moment, her form was replaced by another; the sleeping figure of a little girl, her hair white as snow and her face the picture of innocence, lying under the sterile sheets of a hospital bed. He shook the memories away and issued a deep sigh. He seemed to be reminiscing more and more about the past. Like the fleeting form of a wraith, tempting him with memories that he knew he shouldn't have, not anymore.

Movement caught his attention and his eyes flitted to where his hand connected with the twi'lek's. he arched a brow, noticing the twitch in her finger before it went still.

She stirred, the old, thin sheets falling onto her lap when she sat up. She let go of his hand, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. When she turned to look around, her gaze halted on him.

Emiya blinked, watching the girl go still as her lips parted and her eyes widened.

She moved, then, gripping the sheets and throwing them over her shoulders as she shuffled closer to the opposite edge of the bed, resting against the wall. She regarded him cautiously, hugging the sheets and scowling.

"W-Who are you?" She asked, an unmistakable tremor in her voice.

Emiya sat in silence, his face an impassive mask. When he opened his mouth to respond, she flinched slightly, "I'm Emiya. We spoke on the platform earlier, remember?"

Her narrowed eyes widened a fraction, before she pursed her lips. "What do you want?" She asked, pulling the sheets closer.

"Want?" Emiya repeated with a raised brow, "Nothing. I'm just making sure you're alright."

"Why?" she urged, scowl deepening.

Why indeed. Because Javii had asked him to. Because his ideal demanded it. Because she reminded him of _her._ Did he really need a reason to help someone anymore?

Emiya shrugged, "You collapsed."

Her eyes widened, her brows shooting upwards. "I did?"

He nodded.

She seemed to relax at that, her shoulders drooping slightly as her features turned downcast.

"So it was just a dream…" She muttered, her tone dipping in sorrow as she stared longingly at the pillow strew on the bed.

He caught a glimpse of a few budding tears in the corners of her eyes, and something stirred deep within him.

He sighed, his mind whirling with thoughts as a soft sob escaped the twi'lek's lips. An image came to his mind, of a smile, deep in relief and grief, plastered on a tear-stained face. Of a man with sagging shoulders and haggard breath cradling the broken body of a boy. He remembered it all too clearly. Perhaps the one memory he would never forget, forged in the flames of a tragedy and hardened by a simple smile.

"I know how you feel." The words escaped his lips before he realized. "I've lost my family, too." He said. Perhaps sharing his own memory would help her cope with her loss.

The teary-eyed twi'lek turned to him with puffed cheeks and reddening eyes. She brushed the tears with the back of her hand and sniffled. He failed to miss the curiosity in her eyes, hidden beneath a veil of her own sorrows.

Emiya's gaze turned to the floor, where the red rays of the setting suns settled on the metal. "They died in a fire," He said, "A large and scalding disaster that swallowed half the town."

He threw her a glimpse, noting the intent with which she was beginning to listen. "I would have died, too, if not for a man."

"Is he here, too?" She asked, her voice shy and reserved.

He shook his head, "No. He saved me from the fire and gave me his name, but he died shortly after."

The girl's eyes grew wider, and she fumbled with her words, "S-Sorry."

He shrugged, "You don't need to apologize," he said, "It happened long ago."

The girl's eyes turned to her feet, her toes wriggling under the sheets. "How did you …" She started, before chewing on her lip. "Does the pain go away?"

"It does." He said. He knew his had been a unique case, where his sorrows had quickly been replaced by purpose and resolution. He was distorted. She wasn't. "Find people you can grow closer to. With time, the wounds will scar."

The twi'lek looked back at her feet and her eyes narrowed. After a moment, she raised her head and nodded with a small smile.

He knew her grief was still there. It would take more than the few comforts of a stranger to supersede her trauma, yet he hoped his words would help her find closure.

"It's getting late." Emiya said as he got to his feet. He stretched his neck and back, the bones and muscles there popping with the movements. "Are you hungry?"

The twi'lek looked down at her stomach, the latter rumbling at the mention of food. She looked away and nodded.

He offered her a hand, and she took it with hesitation. He helped her off the bed, offering her a helping arm when she stumbled on her first few steps. As he led her through the room, he asked: "I haven't caught your name, yet."

The girl threw him a glance, tilting her head. "It's Aola."

Emiya nodded, the girl following behind him as they stepped out of the room.

* * *

They went back to the platform, where the girl had initially collapsed.

Emiya picked up the small bowl and trail he had brought earlier, but hadn't had the time to clean. He turned to Aola, the twi'lek behind him leaning with her hands over the railing, staring at the darkening sky.

He cleared his throat, nodding at the girl when she looked back.

They made their way back inside, the pair walking close as they travelled through the corridors.

Emiya was curious. He hadn't seen many jawas outside, nor heard any noise in the Sandcrawler. _There was no one beside us in the sleeping quarters, either._ Strange, considering the yellow-eyed aliens preferred to sleep early and wake up to the first rays of the sun.

A noise from further down the corridor attracted his attention as they neared the dining area.

His steps carried him through the door, and he stopped, the trail in his hands clattering as the twi'lek behind him stumbled into his back.

His jaw dropped as he took in the scene before his eyes.

Jawas were literally strewn across the kitchen, cloaked bodies collapsed and unconscious on the floor and tables of the room. His wide eyes turned to the only jawa standing, recognizing the belt Javii wore across his shoulder.

Something clattered on the floor, and Emiya's eyes followed the stains of soup that seeped from the fallen pot. The Jawa fell to its knees, licking the cold, grimy liquid with its slimy tongue.

"Eww…" He heard Aola express behind him, and the Jawa turned towards them.

He barely had the time to react, what with the trail in his hands and the girl behind him, when the jawa jumped before him and bounced on the balls of its feet.

"Friend Emiya!" The alien exclaimed, causing some of the other jawas to stir in their sleep.

Emiya took half a step back, lifting the trail in his hands slightly in defense. It was a poor shield, he knew, but the jawa saw him move and took the plate from his hands, discarding it on the floor before taking the boy's hands in its own.

"Exquisite soup!" It exclaimed, tilting its head towards the kitchen counter. "Want more!" It said. " _Need_ more!"

Emiya raised a brow, shaking his hands free of the jawa's. He threw a glance behind him, seeing Aola trying to peek over his shoulder. He stepped aside, allowing her entry into the room, and she walked in, before she crouched by a collapsed jawa and poked it with her finger.

He stared back at the excited jawa in front of him, and he had to wonder if the usually calm— and sometimes jumpy— creature was on a sugar rush of some kind. His eyes trailed back to the overturned pot sitting on the floor.

"What happened here?" He asked.

"Jawas found big pot full of delicious food!" Its voice was high in tone and pitch.

Emiya's eyebrow twitched, "And what? You ate the food and collapsed?"

The jawa nodded, its head bobbing up and down frantically. "Long time since we ate food so good! Even chef Jeela thinks so!" Javii pointed to one of its kin, sitting by one of the tables and rocking back and forth in its chair. He recognized the creature as the female jawa he had met earlier.

The chef raised its head, staring at the trio with bleary eyes. It lifted its scaly thumb in the air before it burped. The chair beneath her rocked back one too many times, and the jawa fell back with a satisfied grunt.

A bead of cold sweat travelled down Emiya's head as he turned to Javii. "See?" the alien said.

Emiya shook his head, "How could you collapse just from eating soup?" he asked, missing the way the twi'lek crouched a ways from him twitched.

The jawa's head jerked in disagreement, "No, no! Friend Emiya don't understand!" It said, one of its fingers poised towards the ceiling. "We jawas have very sensitive tongues. Soup you made is thick in spices. The flavors got to their heads and they collapsed!"

"And not you?"

"No." The jawa denied. "Javii just came to kitchen. Found the pot almost empty!" he stomped an angry foot into the floor, the metal rattling with the effort.

Emiya's brow twitched, his eye drooping in disbelief as he threw a glance across the room again. "So, you mean to tell me," he began, "That all of these jawas fell unconscious because of the soup I made?"

Javii nodded his head in frantic fashion, the gesture almost sending its hood back and revealing its features under the artificial lights.

Emiya sighed into his hand. He was sure he didn't put too many condiments in the soup. He had even tasted the spices and ingredients himself, and while most looked completely foreign and alien to him, the aromas evoked a sense of familiarity that made him comfortable enough to cook with the unfamiliar foodstuffs. Perhaps the jawas were naturally weak to strong flavors?

"Alright," he said, "It wasn't my intention. I'll stay away from the kitch—"

"NO!" the jawa bellowed, grabbing the human's hands again. "Friend Emiya must cook again!"

"Huh?"

"Jawas haven't eaten anything as good for too long! Rations are too stale and chef Jeela cooks like a tuskan!" He thought he heard the aforementioned jawa utter something from beyond the table, a burbled curse that blended with a loud belch.

Aola stepped away from the room, choosing to lean against one of the adjacent walls while pinching her nose.

"So, you want me to cook again?" Emiya asked with a tilt of his head.

The jawa nodded, "Yes! Very yes!"

"Even if you end up collapsing?"

The jawa nodded.

"What I cook may not be up to your tastes."

The jawa shook its head. "Nonsense. Jawas can eat human foods too!"

Emiya sighed, rubbing his temples with exhausted fingers.

He thought about refusing, but did he really want to? The jawas had done so much for him, providing shelter and supplies when they really didn't have to. He knew how much life in the dunes could take its toll on people, he had seen it firsthand. Yet, the jawas had welcomed him like a friend of the clan and treated him like family. Besides, he really wanted to step into a kitchen again. Imagine all the recipes he could conjure with new, alien ingredients.

He threw a glance at the twi'lek behind him when she patted his shoulder. She stared at him with a mix of shame and insistence, and he thought he saw a trail of drool on her chin.

He turned back to the jawa tiptoeing before him.

"Alright," he said, "I'll cook."

The look of utter excitement and joy on the jawa was hard to miss.

* * *

It was late in the evening by the time the jawas had woken up and tidied up the room. It was a strange mix between a dining hall and a kitchen, big enough for three tables full of jawas to sit and dine in cramped comfort. He doubted he'd have been able to fit in their midst had he been any taller and bulkier than he was.

He brought the ladle up to his lips and took a cursory sip of the brownish soup stirring in a large, deep pot. It tasted alright. It was nothing he'd have taken exceptional pride in, but it was a good enough mix of diced vegetables and exotic spices. Something he threw together with utensils and ingredients he had yet to get used to. He threw a glance at the strange, long storage by the wall, a kind of cold closet where the jawas kept most of their food. It was a fascinating thing, able to keep ingredients in perfect condition without freezing them. His mind whirled with thoughts and theories as to how it worked, but he put them away. He didn't think he could comprehend the strange, advanced technologies of this world. Not yet, at least.

He turned off the nanowave stove— yet another puzzling device— and waved at the twi'lek busy setting the table behind him. They lifted the large pot together and deposited it on top of the centermost table, where the two would be sitting together.

Silence pervaded the room as the jawas waited in anticipation, empty bowls sitting between spoon-armed hands.

He couldn't understand their excitement, but he appreciated it.

He started serving the jawas on the outermost seats first, filling the bowls that Aola brought him until all had been serviced. When he made to take his seat and eat, a mound of empty bowls was already piling up beside him, their owners looking at him with the expectant eyes of a starved mob.

He was glad some of them had collapsed in their seats already. _The lesser jawas to serve, the better._

The girl beside him twitched as she ate, and he caught a glimpse of a single tear trailing down her blue cheek.

Perhaps he should make more after all.

* * *

Two days went by since the soup incident, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to step into the kitchen again.

Day in and day out, he had cooked for the jawas, throwing together meals with a frequency that was starting to sap at his energy. He was glad Javii had put an end to it, however, or rather, made it more manageable. The friendly clan-chief had made a point of allowing him to rest for as long as he wanted, and not be interrupted by the aliens, so long as he got first dibs on any recipe he tried his hands at.

Emiya wasn't sure what to make of the jawas anymore. They were a loveable bunch, easily excitable and amiable. Yet, he hoped not all the creatures in this strange new world were the same.

He shuddered at the thought of having to cook for a whole town of scaly aliens.

A beep sounded from the spherical device in his hands.

It brought his attention back to the array of parts and pieces arranged before him. His eyes roamed over the skeletal structure he had assembled. It looked vaguely humanoid, with misshapen limbs and a bony, metallic square for a torso.

The head— some strange, round shaped thing in his hands— was the only part that seemed to work, if the way its narrow, rectangular eyes lit up was any indication.

He fiddled with the part, turning it in his hands and looking it over. After a while he placed it back with the other pieces with a sigh.

It was a pet project of his. Something he did to fill his time when he had nothing better to do. He had already spent most of the morning meditating and helping around on the Sandcrawler, and decided to do something different to get his mind off the routine he had started to set.

He had found a large bin full of old, droid parts in one of the storage rooms. He hadn't paid it much attention, at first. It looked mostly like junk. But as he focused more he found some parts that ignited that irresistible urge to fiddle with broken devices and tinker with machines he didn't understand.

A small, blue finger poked the head of the assembly, causing it to roll to its side.

He threw a glance at the girl lying prone next to him.

That was a strange development, too. Over the days, his relationship with Aola had grown into a budding friendship. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but he blamed it mostly on his cooking. The girl seemed to love it.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked, pointing a small, tanned finger at the head of the droid.

She shook her head, "It's a droid. We had a small one, too, back at the farm."

He nodded. He had no idea what use a moisture farm had for droids, but he digressed.

He heard footfalls echo from beyond the room, and Javii emerged into the sleeping quarters not long after.

"Friend Emiya." The Jawa said. "Friend Aola." The girl met his eyes and nodded without a word. It looked like she still had trouble trusting the aliens.

"Javii," Emiya gestured in greeting, "Can I help you?"

"Came to see how you two doing." The corners of the jawa's eyes tilted upwards, _A smile_ , mused Emiya. He was still coming to grips with the gestures and expressions the aliens employed, but it was hard to miss the meaning behind such a universal expression. "Glad to see you doing well." It said, throwing a meaningful look at the twi'lek busying herself with what looked like a droid hand.

Emiya agreed. The girl had come a long way over the course of a couple days. He had no doubt she would grow into a strong, dependable person given enough time.

"Also, came to say that jawas almost done scavenging. Should be ready to depart tomorrow."

A smile broke on Emiya's face. He had been waiting to hear that for a while, now. The jawas were nice, but he needed access to knowledge they didn't have in order to resolve the growing questions whirling in his mind.

The girl besides him dropped her head between her arms, something resembling a pout crossed her lips as she absently stroked her _lekku_. He still had to remember which of her twin tentacles was the tchun and which was the tchin. Assimilating alien cultures wasn't really something he was used to.

Emiya threw the jawa a nod and motioned for the space before him.

Javii dropped himself onto the flour, folding scaly legs under thick robes. His eyes travelled across the floor, registering the many pieces arrayed into the human-like form.

"Repairing Droid?" the jawa asked.

"I wouldn't go that far." Emiya said. "I have no idea how any of these parts work. Do you?"

The jawa seemed lost in its thoughts for a few seconds before it nodded. "Have repaired droids, before."

Emiya motioned for the skeletal assembly with his hand.

"No. Can't repair this." It said, lifting a few parts into the air and rolling them before its eyes. "Too old." It said, lifting another part, "Too rusted. Too damaged. Junk."

It lifted the head and rotated it before its eyes. "This could work." It said. "Seems already repaired. Friend Emiya do this?"

The boy nodded, "I just pushed a few pieces here and there and fiddled with the cables under the latch on its back."

The jawa nodded, giving the head another look-over. "Impressed. Friend Emiya has talent for this."

Emiya shrugged. "Just something I like to do in my spare time."

The jawa gave him a long look, before it put the head back in its place. "Wait here. Will be back."

He watched the alien go as it exited the room, a spring to its steps.

He turned to the twi'lek. She gave him an amused shrug before turning on her back and spreading her lekku over her chest. She flipped on her side, closing her eyes and breathing softly. That was another thing he found amusing. Whenever they were alone, the girl would allow herself to fall asleep in his vicinity. Even going as far as choosing a bed next to his when it came time to sleep.

It didn't bother him. The girl still kept her distance, speaking in few words and touching him only when she wanted his attention. She was opening up slowly, which, he felt, could only be a good thing.

Before long, the jawa came back, holding a box full of chips and electronics.

Javii plopped down onto the iron floor, and emptied the box full of trinkets and parts before him. His hands sifted through the mess of plastics and hard bits before stopping on a few pieces that looked like small motherboards.

The jawa held two, one in each hand. "Personality matrix." It waved the small rectangular piece in the air. "Protocol chip." The other piece was smaller, but he had a feeling it was just as important.

"Droid head seems functional. Only need these two parts to operate."

Emiya nodded, and watched as the jawa took the droid head and turned it around. "Here," it said, pointing at two small slots on its underside, "Slot chips in here, should work fine."

He caught the head and the chips in his hands and threw the jawa a curious look.

"Friend Emiya has fixed head. Needs to slot chips too, for droid to recognize as master."

Emiya turned his gaze on the spherical part in his lap. He could feel Aola stare over his shoulders, close enough that their bodies almost touched.

He exhaled, flipping the head over and pushing the two chips into their designated slots.

They waited in palpable silence, watching as the droid's eyes shifted through colors until it settled on orange.

"Greeting: Hello master." Its voice came out like that of snobby old man speaking through a microphone. "It is my utmost pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Emiya hid his surprise behind an arched brow, "' _finally'_?"

"Observation: Indeed. My sensors have been fully operational since you fixed the jumbled mess of wires behind my head."

Emiya turned the head around, staring at the latch hiding the droid's innards.

"Caution: I would advise against stuffing your fingers into my circuits while I am in service, master." He turned back the head to stare into its eyes.

He shrugged, throwing a glance at the jawa before him. Javii simply shook his head, leaving him to deal with the sassy droid. "Suggestion: While causing you harm is a prospect I am loathe to consider, I would be most eager to engage in some meatbag evisceration. Perhaps we shall start with the blue skinned freak behind you?"

The twi'lek jumped back, her eyes wide in horror. She hid behind his back, tugging at his robes.

"You've got quite the tongue, haven't you?" Emiya asked with an amused frown.

"Answer: My personality is simply the result of your own meddling, master. May I suggest you replace my personality core to suit your needs?"

Emiya glanced at Javii, the latter shrugged. He felt the twi'lek behind him move as her eye poked over his shoulder. "I think you should scrap it," she said.

"Objection: This unit's fate is not yours to decide, meatbag." The droid said, its eyes flashing with every word.

Aola frowned, mustered the courage to emerge from behind him and confronted the talking head. "I'm not a meatbag!"

"Objection: You most certainly are. My processors cannot think of a better term to portray the vast amount of slushiness present in your bipedal form."

The twi'lek frowned, her lips trembling as she fumbled for a retort, before Emiya held his hand.

"Enough, droid." He said, clearing his throat and hiding a smile behind his fist as he stared into the orange eyes. "What's your designation? How should I call you?"

"Answer: Why, master, I am an HK unit, series 47. Or what remains of one, I am most afraid."

"HK-47 it is, then."

Aola crossed her arms and turned away with a pout. "I still think you should scrap it."

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_**

Commentary: I believe this chapter will be most pleasing, Master. If the meatbags chose to disagree, please, allow me to demonstrate the full range of my meatbag-cutting arsenal.

Here's to another chapter! I hope you guys like it. I had a lot of fun writing HK's dialog. For those who don't know him, he's an assassination droid, a companion in the KOTOR and SWTOR video games.

Oh, and to answer the remarks of some of you: the Emiya in this story is not the same as the one from UBW. He still has the full range of capabilities of CG Emiya, but he's an alternate version resulting from an alternate Holy Grail War in which he dealt with his issues differently. I like to see him as the EMIYA servant from FGO: Caring, Gentle, a witty bastard of an older brother who can be both unnervingly sarcastic and protective. But that's just my headcanon, anyway.

To quote an entry from the type-moon wiki: "His personality is very contradicting. While he is thoroughly cynical and nihilistic, he is at the same time devoted and protective, and even a little childish to the point that it makes him hard to hate. He does not lie, but he does keep secrets and tell half truths. He means well and is capable of being nice, but often ends up being sarcastic, especially so when he gives advice."

Anyway, leave a review if you feel like it. I'd love to know your thoughts!


	5. Hollowport: where villainy thrives

**_Blades of Light and Darkness, Chapter 5._**

* * *

The invisible light streaked under his skin in synch with his breathing. The air entered his lungs, and his skin itched, as if blades were rattling underneath. He exhaled, feeling the built-up stress and fatigue leave his muscles in a long, exhilarating stretch. He opened his eyes, watching as he flexed his fingers and felt the tingling recede. He opened his fist and stared at his palm, before curling his fingers again in an instant so fast it was almost instantaneous.

Emiya breathed out, letting his arm drop by his side.

After a week of meditation and introspection, he had made some headway into recovering some of his powers. He was still blind to the entirety of his circuits, but he had managed to reiterate the technique he had taken to employ back when he was but a child. The one technique that had been deemed suicidal by any who had witnessed him employ it.

Emiya ignored the lingering pain as he rubbed his temples. Cannibalizing his nerves to create a magical circuit was something he was not keen on trying. Yet, for all intents and purposes, it was the only path open to him at the moment. If a time came when he had to defend himself, and he had a feeling something bad was bound to happen at some point in the future, then he needed all the strength he could muster.

Emiya sighed, readjusting the rifle slung across his shoulder and feeling its weight settle on his back. The thing was heavy and clunky, and he wasn't sure how his tiny body would handle the recoil. Still, it was a marked improvement over his small, naked fists, and if it was anything like the weapons he had handled back _then_ , he was fairly confident in his gunmanship. It was a tall thing, with a design that was alien to him, which he had found while sifting through the pile of scrap and odd bits that even the jawas considered trash. It hadn't been in working condition, unsurprisingly, but after tinkering on it along with a couple of knowledgeable jawas, he had been able to make it usable. He didn't trust it, not by a long shot, what with the adhesive tape that adorned almost every visible part of it, but he carried it nonetheless. If he couldn't shoot it, then at least it would serve as a deterrent to anyone looking to prey on a defenseless child. He would have liked a smaller gun, something that wouldn't potentially blow up in his face when he shot it, but the jawas had a limited supply of those.

His legs shifted atop the cool sands as he stood up and stretched his arms and back, the cloth covering his head coming off and falling over the butt of the rifle.

They had left the buried husk of the Star Destroyer over eight days ago. Once their Czer Dragon had its cargo filled to the brim, the jawas broke camp and set sail towards one of the few settlements of the Hooka Wastelands. The Sandcrawler had proven to be rather accommodating, proceeding across the sands with speed and comfort one would expect of a decent cruiser. The seldom winds whistling under the scorching binary suns outside were hot and dry. Inside, however, the air was conditioned and filtered, allowing for a rather seamless voyage.

Overall, the journey through the broiling dunes of Tatooine had been uneventful. Well, as uneventful as a cruise through the desert could be if one ignored the pitiful attempts at ambushing the Sandcrawler orchestrated by some desperate and badly organized sand-dwellers. _Sand people,_ he reminded himself, or Tuskans, as some of the jawas had shrieked when the hull of their machine had almost buckled under the weight of falling rocks and sands. When their ambushes had failed, the tuskans had resorted to shooting the Sandcrawler directly, something that had proven to be fruitless as their shots ricocheted off the hull of the armored mammoth like embers bounding off the surface of a clear, lustered blade. There had been many more attempts, but each was foiled either due to sheer stupidity and desperation on the ambushers' part, or the ingenuity displayed by Javii's clan. It was apparently a common enough occurrence.

Still, all those pebbles on the road, so to speak, had them take a more cautious and sedate pace through the desert. It was only a few days past what the jawas had originally estimated that they finally reached the high walls of Hollowport, the most important settlement in the region. The jawas had described it as a trading hub, attracting traders and travelers from all across this slice of the planet. A small city huddled into the side of a red, jagged mountain, whose amber rocks protruded over the settlement like a sunshade and provided a natural cover for the agglomeration of buildings and houses below.

A large gate stood at the entrance of Hollowport, guarded by massive turrets stood atop of watch towers erected on either side of the gate. At its foot, where a smaller passage was open and led to the inside, stood a few guards managing and policing the line of travelers and machines waiting to be allowed into the settlement.

Javii's clan had parked their Sandcrawler not too far from the entrance, beneath a natural limb of rock that extended between two large rocky formations and provided a shelter against the sweltering rays of the twin suns. Other vehicles were stationed under the shade; large sandcrawlers similar to Javii's, with their own lot of aliens or even humans, as well as other, smaller vehicles and car-sized transports.

Emiya watched the jawas hustle around the back of their sandcrawler, unloading large bins full of metal chunks and technological odds and ends, before attaching them to small, bike-like machines. He observed with fascination as the conveyances, little more than handlebars fitted onto a thick frame of steal and a cushioned seat, came to life with a quiet hum and literally levitated in the air, lifting the large bins weightlessly off the ground in their motion.

Emiya shook his head, a disbelieving sigh escaping his lips.

He heard a voice call his name and he turned, meeting the eyes of the twi'lek making her way towards him. He watched her hop off the back of the sandcrawler and stumble when she almost lost her footing. He had had no intention of taking her along, at first. But at her insistence, and when she had told him how she had been to Hollowport before, he had reconsidered. He needed information, someone to guide him through the streets of a possibly dangerous and labyrinthine town. What better guide than a locale who had toured it before?

She stopped a few feet away and rested her hands on her knees, panting, before she stood back and motioned for the satchel slung over her shoulder with an excited smile. "Sorry for the wait." She said.

"Mockery: But of course. You should have taken some more time, dear. After all, what's two hours of waiting out here in the heat with all these meatbags and junk around?" HK-47 emulated a sigh, the action sounding like a breath of air passing through ventilation grills. "Suggestion: I say we leave the meatbag and proceed on our own, Master. Her presence is superfluous at best." The robotic voice came muffled from under his cloak. Emiya pulled the flap of thin fabric aside and stared at the metallic head strapped to his belt.

"And yours is not?" He asked, arching a brow. "I think she'd be much more useful than a junk ball with flawed programming."

He heard the twi'lek nod and hum in agreement, smirking at the droid.

"Objection: While most of my protocols have been wiped, I can still converse in hundreds of different tongues. And that's not even taking into consideration my significant haggling skills. Really, master, throw me at a peddling meatbag and I'll swindle him down to his panties, or whatever equivalent a tentacled freak would fancy."

Emiya shook his head with an exasperated sigh, giving the droid a tap of his fingers before concealing it under his cloak. He ignored HK's indignant remarks.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked the twi'lek.

Aola nodded, readjusting the sling over her shoulder so the satchel rested against her hip. She pulled the hood over her face and hugged her lekkus around her neck like a scarf. The tentacles were effectively hidden beneath the shadows of her cloak, and he had to wonder whether she only desired to hide them from the sunlight, or had more personal reasons to do so.

He shrugged the thought away and turned to Javii, standing a distance from them and busying himself with the tablet in his hands.

The jawa shifted its attention when it noticed their gaze and put the tablet away before moving closer. "Friend Emiya. Friend Aola," the alien nodded, "Javii hopes you find what you're looking for. Hollowport is best place if you want to trade goods or knowledge."

Emiya gave the alien an appreciative nod. So far, the jawas had been nothing but supportive and friendly. They had even given them supplies and sundries to trade in the market for currency, as well as information and directions.

"Thank you, Javii." Emiya said, extending his hand toward the alien.

The jawa stared at the extended limb with a tilt of its head, before shrugging and taking the boy's forearm with its scaly limb and giving it a good shake.

Emiya returned the gesture, though more controlled and with less vigor, before nodding and turning away. "Let's go." He said, motioning for the twi'lek. The girl gave the jawa chieftain a tentative wave and a reserved smile, before falling into step next to the boy.

"Commentary: Off to meet more meatbags. Oh, the joy."

* * *

Before long, they stepped out into the open and were immediately assaulted by the baking heat of the binary suns and the chafing winds of the desert. Emiya was thankful for the change of clothing the jawas had procured for both him and Aola. The light cloak that concealed his tunic and slacks was airy and smooth, a welcome change from the coerce robes he had had to wear for most of his time on this strange world. His boots creaked lightly, burying his feet up to his ankles when he stepped onto the sun-kissed grains. The duo soldiered on through thick and heavy, pulling the flaps of their cloaks tighter as they advanced through the sands.

They made their way to the towering gate jutting out of the tall walls of Hollowport, and stopped at the end of a long line of people and small vehicles. It wasn't much of a line, really. More of a disorganized mess of travelers and machines arranged in a haphazard formation that thinned out near the entrance. Some where waiting to be allowed inside, like he was, while others were simply checking their cargos or had their heads buried under the bodies of their machines, hammering away at some mechanical issues, he figured.

Emiya came to a stop behind a large form hidden under the folds of a thick robe. He could see small wisps and bumps slithering beneath the fabric and he wondered what kind of creature hid underneath. When the line advanced, He, together with Aola, stepped around the hulking figure, ignoring the empty gaze it cast through large, obisidian globes, and made their way through the gathering of aliens and conveyances. Emiya took the time to scrutinize the faces and shapes he could distinguish in the crowds and through the blurred windows of the curious machines parked around. It was akin to a circus full of the wondrous and the bizarre, a steaming pot of exotic monsters and aliens with a sprinkling of humans here and there.

When the line moved again, they passed a tall and large tantacled mass, something Emiya would have imagined living deep beneath the oceans. He kept his gaze subtle and pulled his hood closer as he advanced through the throng of aliens, Aola quietly following behind him. He threw her a glance over his shoulder and noticed how she seemed used to such a spectacle, aside from a few obvious gazes she threw here and there. She had told him how she used to visit Hollowport together with her father before, when they had come to sell the water they collected on their farm.

From what information he had accrued during his stay with the jawas, he had learned that Tatooine was a rather dry and parched planet, with only few pockets of water buried deep beneath layers of ore and rocks, and exploited by corporations who held the business of water under their firm, steely grip. As a result, moisture farming had emerged as an alternative for those people that had the means to pursue it. The equipment was cheap and available, and although the quantities produced were mediocre compared to what a corporation like Czerka could pump from the aquifers, it still allowed some farmers to sell enough to provide for their families and survive on a world as harsh as Tatooine.

Of course, the major corporations didn't take too kindly to those moisture farmers that settled too close to their interests, and it wasn't too uncommon that a settlement of farmers would disappear overnight, leaving behind a trail of blood and broken equipment, adding to the already large list of dangers that threatened the livelihoods of the settlers. He suspected that such a thing was perhaps similar to what happened to Aola's family, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

Still, Emiya wasn't sure what to make of Hollowport, yet. The jawas had painted a rather colorful picture of the settlement, hailing it as the pearl of the Hooka Wastelands, a bustling hub of trade and commerce. He had no problem believing those claims, and how could he, given the array of convoys and traders waiting to be allowed entry.

However, Hollowport was an outpost of the Czerka Corporation, a galaxy-spanning organization that dabbled in a slew of diversified businesses ranging from consumer food products to military weapons, as the jawas had claimed. HK-47 had also shared what information he had on Czerka, citing the numerous illicit activities the corporation partook in, such as the trade of slaves and drugs.

When he had asked Aola whether she had seen any signs of those activities during her earlier trips to the outpost, she had told him how her father had always avoided certain parts of the settlement, claiming they were dangerous and how they had to be avoided at all costs.

Even now, amongst the thick crowd of aliens and machines, he could spy some shady-looking figures, hunched around some sort of covered container and punching at the metallic box while shouting at whatever was inside in a tongue that was too subdued for his translator to pick up. They made no effort to hide their dealings, even so close to the entrance, where a few guards were stood, rifles in hand and scanning the crowds.

When the line moved again and they stepped closer to the fuss, Emiya frowned, noting the small voices he could now hear coming from the large container covered by a loose piece of tarp. _Children?_ One of the hunched figures – Something vaguely humanoid dressed in thick robes and some sort of breathing mask – took a small device and pressed it to a side of the container, producing a small noise, akin to an electric zap. Before long, the commotion stopped and the crowd turned its attention elsewhere.

Those had to be slavers, he reasoned. Scum who would trade and sell children like cattle. Emiya flexed his fingers and clenched his fist. He felt Aola press against him when he stopped. She eyed him curiously with a tilt of her head, and he took her hand and resumed his walk before she could follow his gaze.

"Are you okay?" He heard Aola ask behind him as he tugged her along. He turned his head slightly towards her and gave her a nod.

They trudged on through the crowds whenever the line moved, and eventually made their way to the guards posted in front of the entrance.

"Halt." Emiya came to a stop in front of a man clothed in greens and yellows, a tablet in hand. The guard looked languid, the way his eyelids seemed to droop despite his apparent struggle at staying awake.

The man gave him and Aola a lookover before he lazily scribbled something onto his tablet. "From where do you hail, strangers?" He droned, the greeting apparently having become something of a routine.

Emiya took a step back and nodded to the twi'lek who took point in front of the man. There was a tremor to her lips when she spoke, "W-we come from Helnstead, f-far to the west." She said, gripping the lapels of her cloak. He wasn't too keen on letting a child speak for him, but he was still a stranger to these lands.

"Helnstead?" the guard echoed with an arched brow, tapping a gloved finger on the edge of his device in rhythm with the movement of his foot. "Those moisture farmers?"

Aola nodded, giving the man a shaky smile. "W-we were sent by the village c-chief. We have some items to trade." She fingered the sling of her satchel and brought it closer for inspection.

The guard huffed, holding the girl's stare for a moment and dismissing her luggage before looking down at his tablet. "Your names and ages."

Aola nodded, "I'm Aola Sun-wesu. I'm ten. T-this is—"

"Emiya." The boy interjected, taking a step to stand right next to the twi'lek and earning a glare from the man. "I'm ten as well."

The guard eyed them idly before he turned to his device and flicked his fingers over the screen a few times. "Aola Sun'Wesu. Twi'lek. Daughter of Yulef and Yvla." He stared at the girl and narrowed his eyes before motioning for her to pull down her hood. Aola complied, removing the cloth just enough for the guard to catch a glimpse of her face and lekkus. The man turned to Emiya once he was done with the twi'lek. He gave him a long stare before shifting his eyes to his tablet and sweeping his digits across it. "No mention of any Emiya in our database." The guard drawled, turning back to stare at the boy. "Is this your first visit?" When Emiya nodded, the old-man sighed and massaged his temples. "Had to be on my shift…"

It took less time than he would have expected to complete his registration. The Czerka guard asked him a few questions regarding his origins and intentions, and Emiya spun the tale he had crafted beforehand with Javii and Aola. He was now registered as a ten years old child who had been orphaned following a raid on his village that had left him the sole survivor. There was an irony, there, that wasn't lost on him. The guard hadn't sought much details, Emiya's fabricated – yet very close to the truth – background apparently being common enough that the intricacies of his childhood held little interest for the already lethargic security personnel. He had been worried the man would ask him for some form of identification at some point, but his worries had proven nigh when the guard waved them over to one of his colleagues standing next to some sort of machine. "Get your belongings checked at the scanner, over there," he said, pointing behind him, "If everything checks out, you can go in."

Emiya acquiesced, grabbing Aola's hand and stepping past the listless man.

Was it really that easy? The guard hadn't event mentioned the rifle slung across his back. Wasn't Czerka one of, if not _**the**_ biggest pan-galactic corporation out there? Perhaps the jawas had blown the picture out of proportions, but still. Entry to such an outpost, where the interests of such a gargantuan organization lay, should have been more firmly organized and regulated.

The flip side of the coin came to his mind as they made their way towards the scanner. HK did mention the darker side to the corporation. Perhaps such lax security was just eyecandy; a cardboard front to make it look like Czerka cared for safety and regulations, while it purposefully looked the other way when people of shadier backgrounds came by for business.

Such thoughts made him equal parts curious and wary. Something just felt… sketchy.

* * *

She was here again.

The big, crowded town where dad and her used to come when the moons were full.

She hadn't missed the old, weathered walls of Hollowport. She had seen it all so often before that it had lost the touch of wonder and awe she remembered feeling the first time she had come by. The mass of people was something else she didn't like, what with the way some of the locals eyed her and dad when they passed by. Mom had taught her how to wear her lekkus around her neck, to hide them from view under her hood, and she had taken to it ever since.

Her eyes roamed warily over the pockets of aliens and droids that dotted the streets.

She didn't like the place. The alleys were narrow and crowded, and the locals were rough and scary. She remembered the big, tentacled alien they had passed outside of the walls, and the memory sent a shiver down her spine.

It had been different the last time she and dad had come. The town used to be brighter and cleaner. Now, stalls and tables sat in every corner of the streets with products and items on display. There was trash and junk strew across the alleys, and the guards that used to patrol the streets were absent.

It was like a whole different place, and that made her stomach churn. She didn't like new places. She remembered when dad had brought her here the first time, how she had refused to come out of the room they had rented in some local cantina. It had taken him two days and a mound of sweet treats before she forgave him and allowed him to take her through the streets of Hollowport. She smiled sadly at the memory. Dad wasn't with her anymore.

She felt a tug on her sleeve and turned to the boy next to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She gave him a smile and a nod. Dad may not have been around, but there was someone else. The boy she liked to call her friend was shorter than her. The gray of his eyes was weird and his hair made him look like an old man but she didn't hate it. Coupled with the tone of his skin, it looked… cute.

She glanced at her friend from the corner of her eyes and noticed the way his eyes flitted across the faces and buildings that lined the streets. He had told her how he had never been to Hollowport before, and she still found it odd. Everyone knew about Hollowport, it was like the only place worth visiting on this side of the dunes. She hadn't believed him, at first, but now, seeing that curious look on his face, she could only accept it.

Perhaps she should take the lead and show him around? After all, she was the oldest of the two, even though he had told the guard at the entrance that he was ten. She was the tallest, and that made her the oldest, right?

Aola nodded to herself and pumped her tiny fist with a determined smile. She considered calling the boy by his name, for once. They were friends, after all, weren't they? "Umm—"

"Commentary: Dear, oh dear. The number of meatbags here is simply staggering." The annoying voice cut her off before she could even speak. She turned an irritated look to the pair of lights that gleamed from under her friend's cloak.

"And I thought the cloth would keep you from noticing." She turned to the boy when she heard him speak. He pulled his hood tighter and dropped a hand to rest against his hip, just over the bump under his cloak.

"Flattery: My, is that concern I hear in your voice, master?"

"Concern?" The boy snorted, and she did the same, "I'd rather you don't start a fuss with all these people around. Keeping you hidden was supposed to serve that purpose, but it seems nothing can escape your sensors."

"Statement: Why, I am thankful for the praise. I am a droid of the highest caliber, and I do possess quite the excellent hearing."

"And quite the nagging voice, too. Stay quiet, will you? We don't want people noticing us."

The droid growled in answer, but said no more. Aola wasn't sure whether she wanted to throw the round little thing in the trash or just sell it for credits. It was mean and snarky, and, well, she didn't like talking to it because it always had a mean little word or two to throw her way. She was just glad it was only a talking head. What horrifying thing it would be if it could actually walk and move like a person. She had to repress a shiver when the image of an able-bodied HK-47 came to her mind. Did that make her a bad person?

They continued down a street and made their way towards the tall, large building that stood further down the settlement. The Czerka tower was perhaps the prettiest building she had ever seen. It was made of glass and durasteel and gleamed from afar, even under the shade cast by the limbs of rock that extended from the mountain above. She had never been to it, however. She and dad had never had any direct business with the corporation, so they never had to cross into their offices.

"Is that the Czerka Tower?" She heard the boy— Emiya, ask, and turned to him.

She nodded, pointing a naked finger towards the building. "Yes. It's a little far, so we'll have to cross the central district and the market to get there."

"I see." The boy said as he directed his gaze towards the tower not too far in the distance. "You mentioned a central district? Anything of interest we can find there?"

Aola tilted her head as she brought a finger to her chin. "There are… cantinas? Places where people can sleep and eat?" she said, a frown crossing her face as she tried to remember, "I think there are some shops, too, but I don't know what they sell."

"Mockery: Very helpful, indeed. Right, Master?"

The boy sighed and ignored the droid. "What about the market?"

The twi'lek's face lit up as a smile broke onto her face. "It's big and full of stalls!" she said, "There are things from all over the planet, there, and even stuff from other places, too!"

The boy arched a brow and gave her a small smile, "You seem excited." He said, and she tried to hide her smile by looking away. The slight coloration to her cheeks was hard to ignore, however, and she eventually turned back to face him.

"W-well, that's the place me and Dad used to visit the most when we came by," she said, her eyes taking a pensive look, "That's where we used to sell the water and products from the farm. Dad would always take me around the stalls, afterwards, and he'd buy me a treat or two before we went home." She could feel her chest tighten at the memory, but she refused to dwell on it. "You want to see it?"

The boy shrugged. "It's on our way, so why not?" he said, "Besides, we could probably sell this," he motioned for the rifle weighing on his back, "As well as some of the supplies the jawas gave us. We could use the credits."

Aola tilted her head in agreement. Aside from the marketplace and central district, the only other place of note was the Czerka Tower. That, and the seedier part of the settlement that she had only heard about. She didn't want to go to either of those places, the people there being scarier and meaner than those they had so far come across, but perhaps Emiya did?

She found herself wondering about her friend's intentions. He had his sights locked on the tall building that was coming closer with every step, yet she still didn't know what his goal was. Perhaps she should ask him?

"Say…" She started, her voice a little meeker than she liked, "Why do you want to go there?" she tilted her head towards the tower.

"The Czerka Tower?" He asked, to which she nodded. "I've heard there's an information center, there, as well as a spaceport." As if on cue, the buzz of an engine shook the air above them as a shuttle passed overhead. They both stopped in their tracks to observe the craft fly over the buildings and streets and make its way towards one of the platforms that stretched out of the tower.

She turned to her friend and watched him cup his chin and nod toward the quickly disappearing shuttle with eyes slightly wider than she had noticed before. "Huh."

"You've never seen a ship before?" She asked.

"A ship?" He echoed, a slight tilt to his head, "Ah, you mean a spacecraft?"

Was there a difference? She shrugged.

"Other than the Star Destroyer entombed in the wastelands outside, yes, this is the first time I've seen something like that."

Aola hummed, giving him a look that said she didn't quite believe him. Her new friend was a curious one, asking about things that everyone should know about. She was glad he seemed clueless for once, however. She liked answering his questions. It made her feel… needed.

"So you want to go to space?" She asked.

"Not yet." He said, tilting his head and staring at her from the corner of his eyes, "I need information first."

Aola nodded. His goal was still vague, and she didn't know what kind of information he was looking for. Her dad had never been to Czerka's offices before, so she didn't know what anyone would want to do there. Besides, wouldn't a cantina be a better place to ask around than some stuffy office?

She put the thought away as she hastened to catch up to her fiend, who had already taken a few steps away, eyes flitting across the sights and people around them. They continued their walk and breached their way through crowded streets and busy roads. At some point, she noticed her friend step closer and brush his hand against hers.

She threw him a glance and opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her when he put a finger over his lips. Her brows drew together and her footsteps grew heavy when he grabbed her hand and squeezed. She had seen that look before, when she was smaller and Dad had brought her to the settlement for the first time. She didn't remember much, that being one of her earliest memories, but the knot forming in her stomach told her it couldn't possibly be a good one.

She felt his grip tighten when they crossed a corner, before she almost stumbled on her own feet when he bolted forwards and forcibly pulled her along. She recovered her footing soon enough and struggled to keep pace next to him as he ran past angry pedestrians and dodged stalls and tables on his way. His grip was like iron around her wrist, and it hurt. She bit down the pain as his skin tightened around hers. Something was wrong, that much was obvious.

Soon, they dove into a shadowed alley and she felt her feet grind against the stone as they skidded to a stop. She collapsed on her knees, hands hitting the ground as her breath came in quick successions. Her body was still weak and she had difficulty running properly. She tilted her head, enough to see her friend staring daggers at the wall that stood before them. "W-what's wrong?" she asked, fighting to regain control over her breathing.

The boy turned to her, and she could see the faint traces of worry on his face.

"We're being followed." He told her.

"Huh?" Followed? By whom? And why?

"Probably thieves." The boy said as he bent forward to pick up a metal bar and a broken pipe that were lying among the junk around them.

"T-thieves?!" The voice that escaped her trembling lips was shrill and small, and her clammy hands soon found purchase on the edges of her hood. Was it because of her? She made sure to hide her lekkus, so no one should have noticed!

"Probably," The boy said, circling around to stand between her and the opening that led to the streets, "They must be eyeing our bags."

The girl struggled to stand on her feet and took a single step towards the boy.

"Don't," he said, "Keep your back to the wall and stay behind me." He gave the bludgeons in his hands a few swings, before standing still.

Aola shifted towards the wall, her eyes locked on the opening that pierced into the streets. She swallowed, refusing to blink in case something came barreling through.

She heard the boy whisper something, two words that melted into the quiet background of noises and voices.

For what felt like hours – but was only a few seconds – nothing happened, and Aola had to wonder why they hadn't tried to flee if the thieves still hadn't found them. She was almost beginning to think it was all a bad joke until two shadowed figures broke into the alley in a fumbled jog.

One of them, the shorter one, hit a wall and cursed, before pushing its partner aside and angrily stomped its way towards them. "Speedy little vermin," the figure spat, pulling down a hood that concealed a red-skinned face. She recognized the Togruta's telltale characteristics, its cloak falling over a form-fitting tunic and slacks that hugged the curves and swells of a figure that was decidedly female. "Finally came to a stop, have you?" She tempted with a smirk, "What's wrong, did you hit a wall?" The alien came to a halt a few steps away from Emiya and crossed her arms.

The other thief decided to stand one step behind her, rubbing his arm and glaring at his partner. He looked like an old human, with his wrinkled face and balding hair.

Aola saw her friend shift a little to the side, adopting a pose with a weapon in each hand. She wanted to go there and stand next to him, but her feet were rooted to the stone beneath her.

"I'd say _you_ hit the wall pretty bad, red." The boy jabbed, and she could picture him smirk even with his back to her.

"Commentary: Nice one, Master. Let me try. Mockery: What's with the red skin, meatbag? Did you run too hard?"

Aola almost felt herself laughing, but she restrained herself when she noticed the scowl on the togruta's face.

"Hahaha. Very funny." The woman snarled, burying an elbow in her partner's stomach when he snickered. "Sodding little squirts."

She produced a small blaster from the folds of her clothing and pointed it towards the boy. "Are we still laughing now, punk?"

Aola's breath hitched. _She has a blaster?!_ This was bad. So very, very bad! She had seen what a blaster could do to a krayt, before, and she didn't want to look like a hole riddled lizard smoking under the sun!

"W-wait!" the word left her lips before she even realized she had taken a few steps closer to her friend. "W-we'll give you whatever y-you want! Please! H-here—"

"Ye shut yer trap, squirt." She froze on the spot when the older human took out a bigger blaster and aimed it at her face.

"Easy there." Said Emiya, shifting so he stood between Aola and the thieves. "There's no need to get violent."

The togruta cocked her blaster towards the _weapons_ in his hands. "I say you let go of those before I put a hole in your cute little skull."

Emiya narrowed his eyes before complying, dropping the metal bar and pipe to the ground. The bludgeons hit the floor with a clang.

"Good. See? You can be a good boy when you want to."

Her partner sighed before rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ye're having way too much fun, Olna."

The togurta shrugged, her smirk widening as she motioned for their bags and possessions. "Send over everything you have. Gently." She said, "And maybe we'll let you off with a spank and a pinch."

Aola swallowed hard. She threw a glance to her friend, who nodded back. She felt a bead of sweat drip down her forehead as she grabbed her bag with trembling fingers and brought it over her shoulder. The sling got caught in the folds of her cloak and her hood came down when she struggled to untangle it. She dropped the bag to the ground and desperately scrambled to cover her lekkus with her hands as she dropped to her knees.

Her eyes widened in horror when she realized the uselessness of her action.

The older man whistled. "Now look what we have here." He aimed his rifle at the boy when the latter moved to shield his friend.

"A cute little twi'lek kid, and a female, at that." The togruta jeered, nodding towards her partner. "I say this day is getting better and better, Dyuni."

"What's this about?" Emiya asked, fists tightening and eyes narrowing into slits.

"Aww, trying to cover for your girlfriend?" The woman crooned, "Don't worry, we'll sell you both as a package."

Aola covered her ears, her mother's warnings coming to mind as she realized just what kind of mess she had gotten herself and her friend into. There was no way the thieves would be leaving them alone after this. Mom had always warned her about slavers and thieves. She had told her stories of twi'leks stolen from their homes and sold to the hutts, working in the mines or worse for the rest of their lives.

She didn't want that.

She felt the tears gather in the corners of her eyes, a soft sob escaping her throat. It was all her fault. If at least her friend hadn't gotten caught, he'd have been safe! She should have told him to be wary of slavers, that they'd be looking for twi'leks like her, but how could she? He'd have refused to let her come along, and she didn't want that.

She didn't want to lose her only friend.

* * *

HK-47 wasn't impressed. Not at all. The two insignificant meatbags that waved their fleshy little arms around and paraded their weapons were absolutely pathetic.

He couldn't see their faces from beneath the master's cloak, but his infrared captors painted their picture well enough.

Didn't they know? Didn't they hear his voice? He even insulted the red-skinned meatbag in concise and easy to understand terms that even infants would comprehend. Were they ignorant of who he was? Back in his time, street rats would flee at the simple whisper of his servos. To think that he even gave them a chance to amend their mistake and leave the master and his blue little… friend alone. Ah, the audacity.

They would not be getting another chance, however. Not the way he could feel his master revving for battle. He could try to hide it all he want, but none could fool his captors. The slight rise in the master's temperature, similar to when they were sitting by the sandcrawler some time ago, the way he could feel the vibration on his hull when the master flexed his fingers and shifted his feet.

He had no idea what the boy had in mind. His tiny little body couldn't possibly take on two armed thugs and come out unscathed. But again, that was why he was here, wasn't he? It was his moment to shine, to prove his worth and perhaps smear some warm blood on the walls, to honor the memory of better times.

Still, he was loathe to admit it, but he couldn't do much. While he retained his martial knowledge, and knew how to rend and severe meatbags and make it look like fine art, he didn't have the means to show it. He was reduced to a ball of durasteel attached to the belt of boy barely old enough to talk. Well, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but he wasn't too far from the truth.

Hmm. Perhaps _he_ should be the one to do the talking? He was quite proficient at that, after all.

"Observation: Meatbag, and meatbagette." Was that even a term? He didn't know, he was an assassination droid, not a dictionary. Still, his words were enough to attract the thugs' attention. "Might I interest you in one of the finest pieces of technology you idiots will ever come across?" There, that should tickle their curiosity.

"What?" The human said, the intonation of his voice fitting with what HK reasoned a mound of slushy fleshiness of that size would produce. "Who's talking?"

"Mockery: Why, look over here, idiot!" He felt the cloth around him rustle and move before his eyes settled on his master's. There was a note of perplexity and intrigue there, but he didn't seem to mind it. Even the twi'lek, whose sobs were starting to fray his capacitors, stopped her pitiful whimpers and had her attention on him.

As it should be.

The master unlatched him from his belt and grabbed him with both hands before presenting him to the thieves. HK was thankful for the confidence, and made it known with a condescending hum of his vocabulator.

"Inquiry: So. You two are slavers, pitiful scum who would sell children for drinking money, yes?"

"What in Tatoo's name is this thing?" The Togruta asked, cocking the barrel of her blaster towards him. "Is that a freaking ball?"

"Indignation: You say it enough times, meatbag, and I'll turn _you_ into a ball."

The large meatbag snickered, earning a glare from his soon to be comrade-in-death.

"That's a droid?" She asked with an arched brow.

The master shrugged, the head between his fingers bobbing with the motion. Would it trouble him to stay still? How was he supposed to get them out of this situation if even the master refused to cooperate?

"Mockery: If it's taken you that long to notice my superior build and lustrous hull, I'm starting to wonder whether you can actually hold a proper conversation."

The togurta scowled, and he wondered why. Wasn't he simply stating things as they were?

"Statement: Regardless. If you two idiots don't scram, I'm afraid you'll soon be nothing but smears on the stone."

"The piece of junk is threatening us?" he heard the large human say, and HK had to wonder if the oversized blob was compensating for something. The meatbag slurred his words and was obviously lacking in intellect if the fool couldn't even recognize a menace when he heard it.

"I think he's making fun of us Dyuni." The togurta said, spitting on the side of the street and tightening her grip on the blaster. "What kinda droid are you?"

"Statement: I am an HK unit, series Forty-seven." He said, and he couldn't help the smidgeon of smug in his tone.

"A what now?" The large meatbag said.

"It doesn't matter." The togruta responded, obviously not recognizing his grandeur. Was it so hard to get at least a tiny bit of recognition these days? He was only the greatest assassination droid in existence, after all. "You're not in any position to make threats, droid. You open your mouth one more time and it's your master who'll get a new little hole between his eyes."

HK-47 huffed. He considered educating the meatbag on the difference between a mouth and a vocabulator, but thought better of it.

"You think we could sell it?" The large man asked, a fat, chunky finger rubbing his chin.

The togurta gave him a look, then turned her eyes on HK's lustrous steel, before shrugging. "Eh. It could be worth a few credits."

Her partner smirked, and tipped his blaster towards the master. "Throw it over, slowly." He said, motioning with his hand as he lowered his rifle. "Don't try anything stupid."

Really now? He was reduced to this? He may have mentioned something about him being nothing but a ball, at some point, but it was nothing but a jest!

"Commentary: Master, I think conversation with these meatbags is useless— Wait, what are you doing?!" He felt his master lift him in one hand and move his arm back, ready for a throw.

"HK." The boy whispered, his face as impassive as ever. "Remember that one time on the sandcrawler, when the jawas tried to use you as a playing ball?"

How could he forget? The aliens had dared use him as a toy and he—

HK-47 would have smirked, if he could. "Answer: Of course."

He could see the puzzled look on the togruta's face, but it wouldn't matter in a little while. He felt the master's hand tense before he was launched into the air, his round head tumbling as it sailed towards the large human's expectant grasp.

It plopped into the fleshy appendage and he felt the man's smudgy fingers enclose around him.

The fool.

* * *

There was a grunt, then a zap followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the stone.

Emiya had already started moving before the thugs understood what was happening. The moment HK's head fell into the human's grasp, the moment a shock of lightning streaked through the man's body, Emiya had already exploded forward.

The seconds passed in a blur. At one point, he was standing with his back to Aola, at another, he was crouching low right in front of the red-skinned alien who had her attention on her collapsing friend.

Emiya exhaled mid-motion, his fingers closing around the butt of the rifle on his back. He felt the heat spread through his legs as he pushed some of his mana into them, reinforcing the muscles, tendons and bones just enough so he could leap once into the air.

His flesh coiled like a spring, before he let it loose, his momentum taking him into the air, just above and between the two thieves.

The female tried to aim her gun, but she was slow and had already lost sight of him, her eyes boring at her feet when he was already high above her.

He twirled the heavy rifle between his fingers, its weight and shape registering in his mind. Gravity made itself known an instant later and he began his fall, whipping the bludgeon in his hands towards the woman's skull and putting his entire weight and momentum behind it.

The rifle impacted her head with a resounding, solid crack that boomed through the small, darkened alley. She let out a gasp, and was forced on her knees, before another blow sent her face first into deep, blissful and concussed sleep.

The moment he hit the stone, he was already behind the man who had gotten to his feet and was struggling not to keel over. Emiya gripped the rifle with both hands and swung it at the man's legs, buckling him back to his knees, before he pushed the barrel against the thief's jugular and held him in a choke-hold.

The man struggled, though HK's earlier stunt had rendered him incognizant. A few seconds later, his arms dangled by his sides and his body went limp. Emiya kept his hold on the man a little longer, just to be sure, before he let go and the body dropped to the ground, raising a small cloud of dust in the process.

Emiya looked back at the alien he had knocked first. He walked up to her and used his foot to flip her over. He checked her eyes. She was out cold, vapid to the world. He hoped she wouldn't wake up for a while.

He let his muscles relax when a moment passed and no screaming alien came barreling through the open street. He exhaled, putting the rifle away and stretching his muscles. There was a numbness to his fingers and bones that he knew would last for some time. He shook the fatigue away and turned to the wide-eyed twi'lek sitting on her bum.

He took a step towards her and was relieved when she didn't shy away.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling before her and brushing away the tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes.

She gave him a silent stare, wide eyes and mouth agape.

He tilted his head with a raised brow, before he shrugged and flicked her forehead with a finger. The action made his flesh tingle, but he ignored it.

"Oww." The girl moaned, covering her itching skin with both hands as she gave him a teary-eyed pout.

"Were you hurt?" he asked.

"N-no." She answered, lowering her eyes to stare at her lap. "I'm fine."

"Good." He said as he stood back. He offered her a hand, and she took it with some reservation.

"I'm sorry." she said when she was back on her feet.

"Hmm?" Emiya hummed, picking up the bag she had discarded earlier. He handed it to her and she hugged it to her chest, eyes riveted to her boots.

"Those slavers…" she began, repressing a sob. "It's because of me that they followed us. Twi'leks are worth a lot at the slave market. A single child can be sold for a lot of credits, and mom once told me that girls are worth even more. So, I-I'm sure they were after me, and you got caught in that and—"

"Stop." He told her, tilting his head with an arched brow. "None of it is your fault."

"B-but—"

"No buts," He said, poking a finger into her arm, "Those weren't slavers. Those were typical thieves you can find in every seedy corner of every town big enough to attract a large enough crowd. They were after our possessions, not you."

She gave him a look that told him she still had her doubts, so he elaborated. "The fact that your hood came off and they took interest in you is purely coincidental. And even if they hadn't discovered your heritage, they'd have tried to rob us blind all the same."

She hugged the satchel tighter and shuffled on her feet. After a moment, she acquiesced, her shoulders sagging with what he assumed was relief. "Thank you…" She said, meeting his gaze. She gave him a small smile and a nod, and he returned it with a tilt of his head.

"S-statement: I-if anyone is interested, I am a-okay…"

He thought he heard HK-47 stammer somewhere behind him. He threw a glance in his direction and, sure enough, there was HK, buried in a heap of scrap and dirt with eyes that were vacillating between faded brown and dim orange.

Should he help him?

"Worry: M-master? I think I can feel my circuits melting…"

Emiya sighed. _The best assassination droid in the universe, was it?_

He had his doubts.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 ** _Yep, I know. It's been almost a month since the last update, but rest assured, this story is NOT dead. I went on a vacation the past few weeks and lacked access to a PC, so, yeah._**

 ** _Some of you expressed their concern over the fact that Emiya lost access to his circuits and powers, but that's not exactly true. He appeared on Tatooine for a reason, and lost his powers due to a particular chain of events, which will be explored further in the upcoming chapters._**

 ** _As far as this piece is concerned; believe it or not, I had to rewrite it twice before I was satisfied with it. I'm not sure how it turned out, but I hope you enjoy it._**

 ** _Oh, and you might have noticed the length of the chapter; 8500 words, oof! for some, that might not be much, but for me, compared to what I've written in the past, it's quite a chunky piece of writing. I might continue to produce chapters of this length, but that means I'll take longer to release them._**

 ** _Do you guys have any suggestions as to how the story should go? I have a plot penned out for the overall story, but I'm open to your ideas if you guys have something you'd want to see happen in future chapters._**

 ** _Leave your thoughts by writing a review! I do actually read them, even if I don't respond (Yep, I'm too lazy to do it)._**

 ** _Thanks for reading!_**


	6. Knights on the Board

**_Before we start_ , **I'd like to make a few things clear.

Some of you have pointed an angry finger at the fact that Emiya has _lost_ his circuits.

...What if I told you he didn't? That he simply became _blind_ to them due to some complicated issues? I won't go into too many details, but if you expect him to go all out from the start, I'm afraid that won't be happening for a while. I feel like some people tend to forget that Emiya is more than the sum of his circuits and UBW. While those make for an indivisible part of his character, it doesn't merely stop there. Those are my feelings, anyway. You're free to disagree.

Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

For Ehmar Jekids, life had always been a succession of many a strife and misfortunes. From the moment he had been old enough to speak and walk, he had been thrust into a wild world of bandits and cutthroats, where the violent and witty thrived, and the naïve thrashed and wiggled like worms beneath their steel spiked heels.

He had learned to adapt earlier than his peers, observing the throngs of people and officials that packed the streets of the Corellian capital, and putting what skills and insight he gathered in practice.

His life of crime and debauchery had started small, as many stories tended to start. His nimble hands had him playing finger-smith, stealing from the random faces on the streets, then slowly making his way up the figurative ladder, eventually reaching the upper strata of spice dealers and arms smugglers.

Corellia had been a treasure trove of opportunities, when he thought back to it; full of occasions for the entrepreneuring and the motivated in a time of war where the galaxy was rife with conflict.

The sale of Corellian gear had propelled him into the ranks of the Exchange, and the crime syndicate had given him the keys to a long corridor of paths and ways that opened up on even seedier grounds, ultimately culminating in a career in piracy along the outer edges of the galactic mid-rim.

The Red Raven had been his first ship, one of many amongst a fleet of claw-marked frigates and vessels that would eventually haunt the minds of troopers and traders alike; a republic cruiser bought off the hands of deserters for a handful of measly credits and refitted to suit his crooked needs. His crew had been hand-picked from a slew of criminals, outlaws and general bishwags from all across the galaxy, eager to set off into space and scar their way into infamy.

The ride had been a bumpy one. A journey through the stars heralded by thundering lasers and blubbering pleas for mercy. A long and bloody streak of skirmishes and raids that cost him more than a few comrades and a couple of limbs, through which he forged a reputation for violent efficiency and brash cunning.

He was satisfied with the life he had led. It was drenched in blood and marred by ugly scars, but it was his. The proof that he had been. That **Red Claw** was more, bigger and larger than the hungry rabble that infested the damp alleys of Corellia. A name forever inked in red through galactic records.

Yet, for all that he had accomplished, Ehmar Jekids had eventually been outdone by his better.

* * *

Small, muffled explosions shook the walls of the command room, throwing debris and pieces of broken equipment across the dark, closed space.

Spastic lights flashed off the many terminals and screens scattered across the room, bathing the walls and floors in flickering blue lights, somehow adding an edge to the dreariness prowling in the shadows.

Ehmar Jekids wiped the sweat off his brow, eyes hardening as he stared down the iron sights of his heavy blaster through a small opening peeking through the barricade. The whole thing had been thrown together in haste; Seats and tables piled on top of terminals and expensive equipment and layering out towards the sealed bulkhead. There was a line of hostages cuffed to the front, acting as a blanket of human shields that'd hopefully dissuade their allies from shooting through.

He felt the stressed silence that hung over the room, poignant and palpable, like a ghost hungrily clinging to his back. Every now and then, distant blasts and murmured steps broke the weighing quietness, accompanying the muffled whimpers of the row of cloth and flesh on the other end of the barricade.

There was a stench in the air; a mix of ammonia and salty sweat that overpowered the staleness of space. A shiver tickled the freezing tips of his ears and his head twitched. He turned his eyes to a large screen panning down from the ceiling behind them, just above the large holo-pojector sitting at the center of the room. Three words blared in flickering glyphs across the projected light, _**Emergency Systems Online**_ in bold, nagging letters. He cursed under his breath and turned back to the big, bulky slab of durasteel that separated the command room from the rest of the ship.

His shirt was glued to his skin, drenched in sweat after hours of constant paranoia and over-powering apprehension. The chestplate over the damp cloth was starting to feel itchy and irritating, and the thick leather coat he wore over it all more for aesthetics than any practical reason was feeling heavier with every passing second.

Ehmar flexed the rigidness out of his fingers, clammed around the grip of his heavy pistol. The weapon had only enough power left for a few dozen shots, at best, and they were all out of power packs. Even the shield generators by their belts had died hours ago, having endured the barrage of plasma from the crewmen who now lay in a pool of their own blood.

The captain let out an icy breath and threw quick glances to either of his sides, brushing away the locks of dark, brown hair sticking to his forehead as he checked on his comrades.

His men were positioned all along the makeshift blockade, two or so dozens of rifles and pistols of every size and make trained on the thick, multilayered lips of steel that blocked the entrance. Some were crouched behind covers, pointing the grimy, old ends of their weapons forward. Others— the lesser of his men whom he ought to throw to a rancor once this nightmare was behind them— were sitting on their haunches, religiously clutching their weapons like protective charms and murmuring some wretched mantra under their breath.

His eyes jerked back and forth between the heavy doors and the ceiling when echoes of remote screams and choked explosions vibrated through the hull and prowled their way into the command room.

A whispered gasp brushed against his spine like the icy tendrils of a beast from the beyond. His head swiveled around, his blaster following closely along as he aimed the weapon down at the group of bound officers gathered behind them, arms tied to the rim of the circular holo-projector. Four or five men and women whose worth outclassed that of the disposable shields. They kept them behind in case the Republic decided to parlay, but their constant mumbles and nagging pleas made Ehmar furious.

"Shut up!" He barked, voice raspy and grating like steel on a whetstone. He brought his weapon forward, the blaster roaring to life in his hands with a glaring bang, throwing a beam of crimson plasma that zipped through the air and burned the durasteel floor not a foot away from the amassed hostages.

The man closest to the impact flinched away, hitting his head against the edge of a machine and cowering in hushed pain.

The sight sent a surge of warm blood through his veins, and Ehmar Jekids sneered, his fingers contracting around his blaster as a howl of demented laughter threatened to burst from his lips. He stomped an armored foot onto the floor and turned back to his men, "Alright, you sons of a bantha! If you don't want your sorry asses thrown into a wampa's pit, snap up your blasters and aim forward! I don't want any slackers on my bridge!"

His men quickly complied; those who had been too afraid scrambled to their feet and leaned against the barricade, while those already on guard narrowed their eyes and swallowed in silence. Ehmar grinned, looking over his men before hunkering down behind a terminal and aiming his heavy pistol through a gap in the barrier. The short barrel of his weapon nuzzled the side of a hostage, who recoiled from the contact with a snivel.

"Are we through, yet?!" Ehmar yelled, glaring at one of his men from the corner of his eyes.

"N-not yet!" The pirate answered, sitting cross-legged behind the hunk of steel and glass housing the navigation systems. He was hunched over a small device in his hands, connected to a console through a length of thin cables and blinking off blue light as the man typed away on the projected screen.

Ehmar Jekids clicked his tongue through grinding teeth, gloves creaking as his grip tightened around his blaster. His knuckles went white beneath the leather, the heavy pistol having become an extension of his arm, held and squeezed for hours through cramping digits.

For the first time in years, the Red Claw was out of his bounds, flying after a flaming shipwreck rather than ahead of it. This whole operation was supposed to be an easy affair. Get in, get the data, get out. Complications were marked off. Hands and tentacles were greased. Republic Reinforcements were accounted and prepared for, yet for all the care and preparation that went into the planning of this coup, the whole thing had veered south faster than a pod-racer coming face to face with a raging acklay.

For the first time in years, Ehmar Jekids was afraid of failure.

Another explosion rocked the cruiser, and the captain cursed when the shock threw him against the barricade. His flinty pauldron grated against the hard steel and shook his bones. The thick leather of his coat cushioned the impact, yet the hard armor he wore beneath it dug into his chest as he struggled to stay on his feet.

Another tremor sent him to his knees, and his pistol clattered away beneath segments of the tattered barricade. He cursed, reaching for the weapon before whipping back his hand when a piece of heavy metal threatened to fall over it and rip his arm in half.

When the shuddering wave passed, the captain picked himself up with a deep scowl and jerked his head towards his men. "Get up, laserbrains!" He bellowed, reaching behind him and unlatching the heavy rifle clipped to his back.

Grunts and groans came from both of his sides, and the captain nodded when his men got to their feet and regained their respective covers. The barricade had partly fallen apart, burying some of the hostages under mounds of metal and broken glass. He could clearly hear them whimpering beneath it, their voices smothered under the crushing weight.

They went ignored.

As Ehmar dusted himself off and ran his fingers across his rifle, running hasty diagnostics and checking the power cells, footsteps echoed off the other side of the bulkhead; distant and hushed, like the stalking whispers of a creeping beast.

He swallowed hard, throwing himself behind the cover of the barricade, the nose of his rifle barely noticeable as it peeked through a gap.

He heard some of his men utter silent prayers mixed with muttered curses.

"Here they come," he breathed, finger shakily resting on the trigger.

"We're almost there, Captain!" The pirate by the navigations system called, giving him a thumbs up as he slid his device beneath the terminal, away from view and interruption. "Five more minutes and we're done!"

Ehmar stilled, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips before he grinned. "Gentlemen, squeeze your sphincters. This is gonna get rowdy!" He rattled his armored arm against the makeshift barrier and whistled for added effect.

His words were met with a chorus of enthusiastic grunts and pumped blasters.

The winds were finally blowing in their favor. Ehmar Jekids and his men wouldn't go down without a fight. Republic Troopers were fodder for their cannons, merely an inconsequential threat compared to what they had fought before, in the unforgiving reaches of hutt space. This wouldn't even be a fair fight. It would be a slaughter. They would survive and go home, accomplish this mission then break free of those sleazy, obese worms that got them trapped in their viscous fingers.

They would come out victorious, as is custom, then he would take his blaster and shove it all the way up that bloated Hutt's ass and pull the trigger. This wasn't a wish, it was a promise of coming and assured vengeance.

His delusions broke when the sound of foot falls stopped right on the other side of the bulkhead.

Sweat pooled at the back of his head, colder than a shower of shaved ice. A weight settled over his joints, and he felt doubt enter his mind. Ehmar shook his head and snarled when he failed to dismiss the images of failure that bloated his mind.

"We've got hostages!" He yelled, pressing a button on the side of his rifle and switching from Hammer Shot to High Impact Bolt.

He pulled the trigger and kept his finger on it. The blaster rumbled in his hands as it charged, preparing to shoot a bolt of highly condensed plasma.

He lifted a hand in the air, swiftly knocking on the barricade and preparing to give the signal for his men— when a single blade of pure, blistering light punched through the thick, multilayered durasteel with a thunderous shrill that plunged the entire room into stunned silence.

Ehmar stared tantalized at the beacon of green light throbbing like an emerald flame in the dark.

The Viridescent torch moved, slow and precise as it cut its way across the bulkhead, the molten metal pooling like orange wax as the blade of pure energy traced a fire-ringed shape through the durasteel. In any other place, in any other situation, Ehmar might have considered the sight a pretty one, like the roaring engines of his Red Raven, or the chafing rays of the sun flaring through the crystals of Christophsis. Here, however, the sequence of sounds and glaring lights was a prelude to a precarious end.

The piercing screech of concentrated plasma on thick steel grated on his ears and pulled him out of his stunted state, and the man found himself furiously shaking his senses out of stupor before taking a single, heavy step back.

He had only ever heard about them. The protectors of the Republic. Wardens of law, justice and all things Ehmar Jekids spat on on a daily basis. The only warriors throughout the galaxy crazy enough to wield blades of pristine, concentrated plasma.

"A jedi…" He cursed under his breath.

What were they doing so far out from the core worlds?!

Before he could blink, the green blade retracted back behind the door, leaving a strangely rectangular shape cut through the quickly cooling steel.

A thought struck him like a dreadnaught, a realization of impending doom, and the captain scrambled to issue commands to his subordinates; "The Jedi are coming throu—

With a booming bang, the slab of metal detached from the bulkhead and flew through the air, swiveling on its axis like a circle of death and careening towards the captain.

He felt his body give way when he took a step back in blanched horror and stumbled on his feet.

The zooming steel punched through the barricade, throwing the amassed furniture across the room in a chaotic mess and, somehow, through a feat of eye-boggling luck, completely missed any of the hostages tied to the barrier. The slab didn't falter, grinding through with a screech and kissing the air where Ehmar's nose lounged not half a second ago.

Everything slowed to a crawl; the whirling hunk of metal swooshed before his eyes as he fell backwards, robbing him of his breath before flying a good head over the bound officers and impaling the steel on the other end of the room.

His body hit the ground with a heavy clank and a grunt, and the rifle flew out of his hands and disappeared into the dark, a single bolt of energy bulging out of its barrel and killing one of the screens suspended from the ceiling before the weapon clattered away.

An orchestra of hissing thunder and barking cannons ensued, plunging the room in a chaos of lights and noises that saw more than a few shots hitting a comrade or ricocheting off lengths of pure green and blue. Explosions shook the steel beneath him and buffeted hot, chafing air in his face. His senses went haywire and his vision swam in oranges, whites and reds as a strident noise rang through his ears.

By the time Ehmar Jekids recovered, he found himself at the pointy end of an azure blade, almost nuzzling the itching skin of his throat and crisping more than a few hairs on his frayed beard.

A heavy boot planted itself on his chest and pushed him back to the floor. "Now, what do we have here?" The voice sounded young and full of life, and even to his dampened hearing, it was hard to miss the youthful, feminine quality of it. His benumbed eyes followed the length of vivid blue plasma up to the blurry figure wielding it, clothed in browns and sporting an amused smile. "I guess it's time to get the big bad Claw off the list of nuisances."

A set of feet approached, stopping just beside the first. He saw a green blade zip out of existence, before its hilt disappeared behind the dark figure's back. "A proper jedi shouldn't be enjoying this." The female voice said, and Ehmar heard the sound of knuckles hitting head. "Why don't you go take a breather, I'll handle this."

The blue blade moved away with a moan from its wielder. "You want me to step out after coming this far? Not a chance."

The other person sighed, "What am I going to do with you." He heard the sound of rustling cloth as the female peeled off her hood and stepped closer to the stunned pirate.

A thought of flight and resistance crossed his mind, and Ehmar tried to move but found himself completely enthralled.

A thin face came into view as the figure bent on her knee; a visage framed in long, amber locks pooling around her head. There were traces of old grieves and endured pains along the sinews of her face, but none of it mattered when she smiled.

"Hello, there." She said, a small frown hugging her delicate brows as she fanned a pale hand over his face.

The world blurred. His vision swam and a heavy weight settled in the back of his head. Whispers of peace and solace nuzzled his mind; promises of serene tranquility that'd take away his burdens.

Before his addled mind could conjure a thought, Ehmar Jekids' eyes rolled back in their sockets and the man fell to the lull of seductive sleep.

* * *

There was much that Nomi Sunrider knew and excelled at, when she truly put her mind to the task. Throughout her life, she had battled darkness, overcome grief and learned to sharpen her dedication to the Light Side, garnering immense respect and a large array of powers and skills that she put forward in service of the Republic. Her exploits saw her heralded as a Jedi Master amongst Jedi Masters, a paragon of the light that sieged amongst the many wise men and women of the High Council. She considered it an honor; a position that gave her much liberty when she ventured through space and upheld the morals and ethics she had come to adhere by.

Her foray into the secrets of the Force had begun as a quest to honor the memory of her late husband, taken from her when his family and the order needed him most. But as time went by and her responsibilities increased, it became a self-imposed mission to right what was wrong with the galaxy. Granted, she couldn't be everywhere justice called— and she certainly didn't delude herself into thinking she could— but she never turned her back when asked for help and available, even going so far as to work behind the council's back, when the old masters were lost in their efforts to rebuild the order and police the core worlds.

But if there was one thing that she was at a loss with— that even Nomi Sunrider was easily aggravated by— it was dealing with arrogant, hot-tempered and hormone-driven teenagers.

"What the brix did you just say?" Her daughter said, her small arms lifting a pirate high in the air.

The poor rodian's voice came muffled from behind the gag on his mouth, and the young girl placated him against the wall when her nerves frayed.

"Trying to act smart, huh?" The girl said, "How about I give you a taste of my lightsaber, would that shut you up?"

The man struggled in her grip, void-eyes quivering as his arms and legs strained against his restraints. The sight put an end to Nomi's break, and she let out a heavy breath before lowering her drink and getting to her feet.

She ran a hand through her long mane and flattened the creases of her dark, flowing cloak. The reds of her hair accentuated the deep verdant shades of her blouse and the long skirt that reached all the way down to her boots, a testimony to the simple life she had led before joining the order. She had tried to wear formal Jedi clothing for a time, but had ultimately decided that the jedi dress code was not for her.

"Vima, that's enough."

The girl turned with a mild glare, "Enough? This bug-face needs a lesson. He's been throwing insults and calling us names!"

"I find that hard to believe." The woman shook her head, patting her daughter's shoulder as she stared deep into her eyes, vibrant cerulean meeting deep azure. "The poor thing is gagged. I doubt anything he'd say would be comprehensible. Unless, and I sincerely hope that's not the case, you've been abusing the force again."

The girl wilted under her stare and let go of the alien, who fell to the floor with bulging eyes as he blanched out from lack of air.

"T-that's not true." The girl shuffled on her feet and crossed her arms. "You can't prove it."

"Vima."

"O-okay, I might have peeked into his mind a little bit."

"Vima!"

"Just a little bit! Geez, it's not like I took a bite of his soul!"

Nomi palmed her face and shook her head as she rested a hand on her hip. "That's it, no more lightsaber for you today."

The girl flinched, visage veritably locked in horror. "What?! You can't do that!"

"I can. I am your master. And your mother. My word is law as far as you're concerned."

The girl puffed her cheeks and stared at her mother, holding her gaze before eventually lowering her eyes. She unclasped the hilt of her weapon and held it forward with a small pout that Nomi found immensely adorable.

"That's a good girl." The woman teased, taking the old hilt and putting it away beneath her cloak.

Vima crossed her arms and looked the other way, huffing her displeasure and displaying it for the whole galaxy to see.

Nomi's lips curled upwards. Knowing her daughter, the girl would calm down in less than an hour's time, once the high of the battle had left her system. She made sure to remind herself to have Vima recite the Jedi Code at least a few dozen times, later on, once they were back on the Outrider and retired to their quarters.

She turned to the rodian slowly regaining his bearings. "Now, what was that about calling us names?"

"Master Sunrider." A man in full trooper apparel approached, holding his helmet under his arm and unknowingly saving the pirate from an unsavory fate. He was a grizzled soldier, face seamed by age and tempered by experience. There was a small scar under his left eye, one that Vima loved to bring up whenever she wanted him to recount his youthful exploits. He had always been nothing short of amiable and agreeable, indulging her demands with a patient smile.

"Lieutenant Hilix." The Jedi greeted, and the man bowed both to her and Vima. The girl dropped her pout and gave him a wave, and the soldier threw her a thumbs-up when she pointed to the collapsed pirate.

Nomi could only sigh with an amused smile.

"The pirate captain is waking up," he said, much to Vima's excitement, "Would you like to question him first?"

"Of course. Lead the way, lieutenant."

Both Jedi followed after the man, passing by republic troopers and technicians as they made their way towards a corner of the room. There were pieces of steel and glass strewn everywhere, and even stains of blood where the lengths of tarp failed to reach. The place would have to be refurnished and cleaned thoroughly, once the ship was hauled back to Coruscant, and she wasn't exactly impatient to stand before the council and make her report.

The lights flickered overhead, the ship's engines having been the first to be repaired. It took the engineers less than a standard hour to fix the damaged modules and bring most of the systems back online— much to Nomi's delight. She hated the darkness.

Her daughter skipped ahead, amber ponytail flourishing in the air as she bounced off the steel flooring and skirted the various terminals and equipment, warily avoiding any traces of red and purple. Many of the officers and soldiers around looked on with either exasperation or amusement, and Nomi couldn't fault them either. The two of them had been affected to the Outrider for a little over two months, now. Patrolling the edges of known space on a mission for the Jedi Council.

She knew Vima's antics could weigh on any normal person's mind, and she had no doubts her instructors on Coruscant were glad to have her off their backs. The thought had her chuckling for a second before she covered her lips and looked away with rosy cheeks.

Still, she had seen her interact with the troopers on the Outrider, and most were patient enough to bear with her exuberance. That didn't mean the girl could get away with anything. She remembered the day Vima had ventured into the engine room and got her lightsaber stuck in one of the ship's ion couplers. She had received a week of stern disciplining and was forced to clean the latrines until Captain Ulyz had had enough.

Really, the girl could be a handful most of the time.

As they made their way through the busy room, her thoughts went back to a few months ago, and the face of a man flashed before her eyes— the shadow of a past full of regrets. She clasped her fingers and let out a sigh as the image faded away. She looked back to her daughter and dropped her frown, _That's behind us. Neither of us will make the same mistake again._

Vima arrived before the sobering man first, standing a good two meters away from the old crook and losing her excitement at his sight. The pirate captain was seated on the floor, guarded by two soldiers in full gear. There was something about the look in his eyes, something that told the jedi that the captain had yet to fully get his bearings. She sensed the force still addling his mind. She might have gone a little too far.

The guards gave her a curt bow when she stopped before them, and she returned the gestures with a smile and a nod.

Lieutenant Hilix gave one of the soldiers a directive and the latter produced a small, hypodermic needle. She could see some blue liquid sloshing through the glass, and when she looked at the lieutenant for inquiry, he explained.

"It's a cocktail of stimulants and medical kolto. It'll shake him up and make sure he's cognizant enough for interrogation."

When Nomi raised an eyebrow, he added; "It's absolutely harmless."

The Jedi nodded, grabbing her daughter's shoulders and pulling her back against her stomach. "I want you to keep quiet and listen. This should be a good lesson for you, so don't interfere."

Vima glanced at her from over her shoulder and shrugged, pointing a slender finger to the waist of her pants, where her lightsaber had been attached not minutes ago.

The trooper knelt down and tried to pull the pirate's sleeve, but the man was wearing armor underneath his heavy coat. He decided to stab the needle through a vein in his neck, instead.

It took Ehmar Jekids less than a minute to regain full consciousness, and when he did, his head jerked up in surprise. The cloth around his mouth kept him from speaking, however, and his voice came out in a muffled bark.

His eyes danced wildly across the room, jumping around from corner to corner until finally settling on the Jedi in front of him and narrowing into slits.

He looked awful, like a rabid hound, squirming as he was against his cuffs. Most of the pirates did, in fact. The heavy, untamed beard falling over his chin certainly didn't help his scraggly looks, nor the heavy scar that marred his cheek.

They hadn't taken a good look at his features, back when they had taken the darkened command room by storm, and had left the man and his subordinates in the hands of the republic troopers. Now, however, with the lights bathing the room in swathes of white, his shaggy appearance would have repulsed a lesser person.

She felt Vima shuffle against her, pinching her nose and looking away when the man's stench became too much for her. She squeezed her shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.

The cloth obstructing Ehmar Jekids' mouth was removed when the jedi gave the troopers a silent tilt, and the pirate captain worked his jaw while keeping his gaze focused solely on her.

"Jedi…" he muttered, his thick voice grating on her ears.

"Give this man some water." The woman directed, and a small bottle of transparent liquid was soon brought by one of the technicians scattered across the room.

The pirate took a few sips and swallowed. "What is this? Where am I?"

"You're on the Arrow of Byss, a cruiser of the Galactic Republic Fleet. I'm lieutenant Hilix, and this is…"

"I'm Jedi Master Nomi Sunrider," Nomi said, nudging her daughter aside as she took a step forward. "And this is my padawan, Vima."

The pirate sized her up, his leering gaze lingering on her curves before meeting her eyes. "The great Sunrider in the flesh." He mocked, plucking his lips and spitting a smidgen of filth at her feet.

"I'd tell you it's a pleasure to meet you, Ehmar Jekids, but a jedi does not deal in deception." Sunrider said, cupping her chin as she perused the information she had read about the man, "Zabrak male, forty standard years old, born on Corellia. You have a long list of crimes and petty felonies to your name.

The republic has been on your tail for the better part of two decades, and you've always slipped from their grasp like the slimy little rodent you are."

The pirate shrugged. "Bunch of incompetent little shits."

"Spare me your banter, pirate." She said, "Your days of debauchery end here. I suggest you cooperate if you even have a sliver of reason."

"You can work that pretty little mouth of yours all you want, cheeka." He mocked. "I've dealt with things much bigger and fatter than you. You think anything you've got to say will make me speak? Red Claw ain't afraid of _no_ one."

She sighed. "You don't seem to realize the extent of your folly."

The pirate let out a low chuckle and shook his head. "I get the feeling you're gonna give me a little spiel, aren't you? I'm all ears."

"Then let me be as direct as possible. You've attacked a patrolling fleet of the republic navy, sunk more than a dozen frigates and even more interceptor crafts." She felt her hand clasp shut as she continued, "The hundreds of men and women you've killed had families. Lovers and children that will never get to see them again. This is your worst crime, yet."

The pirate grinned after a pause, "Sweetie, I kill and steal for a living. Tell me something I don't know."

"Then riddle me this— why did you attack the Arrow knowing full well what consequences you and your crew would incur? The ship has no cargo for you to steal. I doubt your actions were motivated by greed."

The captain's shoulders heaved.

The jedi waved a hand before her. "This is not a game, Jekids. The republic may have turned a blind eye to your dealings before, but now? The only thing waiting for you is a death sentence."

"You think I'm afraid to die?"

"I think a… _businessman_ such as yourself can recognize a good opportunity when he sees one."

The captain huffed. "I know what you're trying to do, Schutta. It won't work."

Nomi shrugged, "You can try and act like a hard-headed fool all you want, but don't squander what could be your only chance at seeing a blue sky ever again."

The man chortled. "Well, I've got nothing to lose. Go on, try to woo me."

Nomi crossed her arms and stared at the man with narrowed eyes. "The Jedi would be willing to intervene and lighten your sentence if you give us the names of your employers."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Employers?" he scoffed, "Red Claw is his own boss."

"Please," the jedi sighed, " _Red Claw_ wouldn't have sacrificed his entire fleet on a suicidal raid. I don't think you're a fool, you know when to caw and when to lower your beak. I don't believe you attacked out of your own will. No, someone else must be pulling your strings."

The pirate lowered his head and glared from under his bangs. "Don't pretend to know me, cheeka. What I do, I do it for myself. I don't go around wagging my tail for credits."

"Who said anything about money?" The woman shrugged. "If money was your motivation, you'd have sought easier prey. I think you didn't have a choice. I think somebody forced your hand and lured you into this trap."

"Nobody forces the Red Claw to do anything!" The man roared, and his guards shoved him back when he tried to stand. "You better watch your mouth, jedi, or I'm gonna cut your tongue and rap—"

He went completely immobile when Nomi waved a hand before him. "You're trying my patience, Jekids. I'm a jedi, I could have forced the truth out of you, if I so desired. But I didn't. I treated you like someone with a brain, and look where that led us.

I will give you one more chance. Tell me what I want and you might escape execution."

She waved a hand and the man flinched with a gasp. He worked his jaw and gritted his teeth before speaking. "Don't toy with me, schutta…"

Nomi raised a single finger. "Only one chance. Don't squander it."

Ehmar Jekids chewed on his lips and glared at the floor.

After a tense pause, the pirate lifted his head. "What's in it for you?"

"Justice." She said, almost immediately. "I want the big fish who employed you. I want them to face their crimes and suffer the consequences."

The man stared still for a moment, before shaking his head with a smirk. "I'll tell you this: Yes, I have employers. No, I'm not gonna give them away. Why? Because your puny little justice can't stop them. I'd rather die than suffer a sentence worse than your republic's."

Nomi cradled her head with a sigh. The man was pushing her buttons.

"Sergeant." She said, turning to one of the troopers. "I'll need you to hold him very still."

Both of the soldiers nodded and took hold of either side of the man.

"Don't think you'll get away with this!" He threatened as he squirmed against his detainers. "You're playing a dangerous ga—" His words ended in a sequence of muffled grunts and choked insults as a gag filled his mouth.

Nomi crouched before the pirate, careful not to soil her skirt on the spittle, and extended both hands. One of her palms froze the man in stasis— just an added precaution— while the other stopped a few inches from his face.

Her Jedi teachings cautioned patience, but she had had enough. A nagging presentiment told her this whole situation was linked to her mission, to the reason why she ventured into the outer-rim in the first place. She could somehow feel it, even now; the deep, gurgling echo of malevolence and darkness that rippled through the stars around her.

She closed her eyes as she felt for the force and let it penetrate her, coursing through her mind and flowing through her body. She pushed forward and felt the invisible power surge forth from her palm. Raw emotions entered her mind; Anger, deep and guttural. Fear, haunting and tantalizing. She needed to go beyond, to reach for the deeper strata of his psyche. She pushed forth with another wave as a bead of sweat streaked down her cheek.

The Jedi mind-probe was a difficult technique to master. An art of the force that left the target mentally scarred and impaired if wrongly used. She had considered the merits and flaws of the technique, but ultimately decided that the captain was not worth all of her consideration.

She felt the man twitch with an audible gasp, but she ignored it.

Blurred Images flew past her darkened vision; fleeting ghosts of memories that had come and nightmares of what could be coming amongst a sea of shadowed faces. The man's mind was guarded, and she knew he would collapse if she went too far, rendering any use of the probe on him ineffective. But she continued, grazing the edges of his consciousness with precise strokes. It was akin to the defusal of a bomb, prodding the corners here and there and trying to find the right triggers before it inevitably blew in her face.

A pregnant feeling tugged at her mind, like a picture that seemed to follow her wherever she turned, becoming sharper and stronger the deeper she went.

When the image became clear, Nomi stopped the flow of power and retracted her hands, breathing a sigh of relief as she opened her eyes and let the man fall to the floor. She felt a hand clasping her shoulder and she turned to her daughter, kneeling beside her and rubbing her back.

Nomi squeezed the girl's hand and offered her a smile before taking to her feet, swiveling around as she tried to place the picture in her mind. _Now, where is—_

She found it a few seconds later and made her way to the terminal buried underneath a pile of debris and broken bits.

"Mom, is everything alright?" Vima asked as she followed behind her.

"It's somewhere around here," Nomi said. She considered calling for help and having the troopers clear the wreckage, but decided against it. The rubble didn't look so heavy. With a flourish of her hand, the debris were lifted into the air, then pushed away where no one would be bothered. "It's a small rectangular screen. Help me search for it."

They found it easily; a small tablet with a length of cables dangling from its side, hidden beneath the machine. Nomi grabbed it and brought it before her eyes. She pressed a button on its outer edge and the device came to life before dying a second later.

"Is it broken?" Vima asked, leaning against her mother's side and staring at the transparent screen.

"Perhaps." The jedi said. They walked back to the troopers and handed the device to the lieutenant. "Would the engineers be able to repair this?"

Hilix took the object in his hands and turned it over. "It should be doable. I'll have them look into it ASAP."

"Thank you."

The grizzled soldier nodded, then called for one of his technicians and instructed him away.

Nomi gave Jekids a last look before nodding to the troopers watching over him. She stepped away and turned to Vima once she had told the lieutenant to keep her updated on any future developments.

"I hope you've been paying attention." She said as she wiped her hands on the cusp of her cloak, then fanned her palms across her stomach and dusted off the top of her long emerald skirt.

"It's not every day a jedi gets the chance to interrogate a lieutenant of the Exchange."

Vima shrugged, squeezing her arms behind her. "He didn't really tell you much, though."

Nomi smiled and reached over to ruffle her daughter's hair. "Alas, the man was cautious. We may not have learned much from our little exchange, but his mind was a trove of possible trails and clues."

Vima intoned a cute grunt and ducked away from her mother's reach. "T-then what did you find?"

"A measly pirate with a modicum of self-preservation wouldn't have attacked the republic so blatantly, Vima. I fear darker forces are afoot."

The girl hugged her hands to her chest. "You mean it's the si—"

The female master chuckled, waving a hand to dismiss her padawan's growing fears. "It's not the Sith, dear. Their order is no more, the last of the dark lords have been defeated and their teachings entombed with them.

No, there are other forces in the galaxy that could threaten the established peace. I fear we may need to take this incident to the High Council before we presume too much."

She didn't miss the way her daughter's eyes seemed to brighten when she spoke of the council. She missed Coruscant, too. Nomi smiled. She grabbed Vima's shoulder and led her out of the room.

"Come, let's go back to the Outrider. It's getting late and I need to instill some proper Jedi teachings into that brain of yours."

Their fading steps were accompanied by a chorus of whimpers and exasperated sighs.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Nomi hoped her growing fears would remain a figment of her imagination.

The galaxy was still recovering. It would not withstand the tensions of another war.

* * *

The water surged forth with the twist of a knob, hissing through the shower-head like a cascade of steam.

It flowed over and around her body, hugging her curves and washing off the soap clinging to her skin. She let out a moan as the gentle, warm caress of the water took away her stress and fatigue.

There was nothing better than a warm shower after a day of grueling labor, Nomi thought. Except, perhaps, for a warm bath in a large and comfy tub. Vima had been the first to jump into the bathroom once they had regained their quarters, and had locked the door behind her for close to an hour. She had had the gall to hum away while Nomi waited patiently on the other side, strumming her fingers across her arms and tapping her foot on the carpeted floor in a crescendo.

The older jedi hadn't even gotten the chance to chastise the girl before the latter zoomed out of the bath and threw herself over a bed, completely oblivious to the looks Nomi threw her.

Still, all of that was forgotten under the constant stream of the cleansing liquid, and the woman found herself leaning against the tiled wall and engorging herself in the soothing warmth.

Bath water was a limited commodity on the Outrider, however, and the shower had to end before the water could run out and inconvenience the personnel of the ship.

With a sigh, Nomi turned the faucet and the stream thinned, eventually teasing her with a few drops before the flow ceased.

She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, draping it over her figure. She ran her fingers through her long, red locks and wrapped a smaller towel over her head.

Her feet slipped into a pair of soft-soled slippers, and she wiggled her toes with a satisfied smile.

She left her clothes in a basket as she walked out of the bathroom with the flowery scent of her shampoo following closely behind.

She stopped by Vima's bed, smiling at the serene look of bliss and tranquility on her sleeping face. The girl was sprawled on the mattress with a mere towel wrapped around her frame, and Nomi had half a mind to wake the girl and discipline her about proper conduct.

She shook her head as she pulled a blanket over her daughter's body and tucked it under her chin. The girl moaned with a slight frown, and Nomi nuzzled her cheek with a smile. "Sleep tight, little teeubo."

She fished out a light, breezy dress from a closet, cut in greens, sewn in whites and lined with golden threads over and around the chest. She also picked a change of lingerie from a nearby drawer before changing behind a windscreen in a corner of the room. She threw the wet towel— the one covering her curves— over the edge of the screen before taking a seat at a small table pushed up against the wall and as far from the beds as possible.

She took the time to run the towel through her hair and dry her locks, all the while humming with a contented smile as she swayed with the timbre of her voice.

She gathered her red mane into a single lump and ran a small comb through it, then let it drape over her shoulder, falling over her chest and almost reaching her lap.

She leaned into the chair and stretched her arms. She could almost hear her bones popping from the exertion.

She wanted nothing more than to slither under her blankets and fall asleep, but she had duties to uphold and masters to infuriate. She could already imagine the various looks of disappointment and silent judgment on the council members' faces, and she couldn't deny that a large part of the reason for their discontent fell squarely on her shoulders.

Still, she couldn't stall any further. It was time to bite the blaster bolt, as the troopers said.

She opened a drawer and produced a medium-sized device, circular and thin in shape, with a blue lens jutting out of its center. She deposited the holo-projector on top of the table and whispered a silent prayer before connecting it.

She squared her shoulders and joined her hands on her lap. It would be a cold day on Mustafar before she presented herself in nothing but her finest countenance in front of the council.

A projection came to life with a blur of blues and whites suspended before her. It was only static, a cluster of colors that lasted until the projection took shape, and the seated figures of some of her fellow masters came to life. There were less sieging members than she had expected, and she thanked the force for it.

"Grand Master Sunrider." Said a man with a grave tone, and Nomi almost jumped. She fiddled with the projector and brought down the sound volume to non-deafening levels.

"Master Illyc." She greeted with a bow.

"A pleasure to finally hear from you, Nomi." A feminine voice said in a playful tone, and Nomi was glad that at least one voice of reason was amongst her conferees.

"Master Kreia. The pleasure is shared, as always."

The older woman smiled and shook her head. "I'm afraid my fellow masters don't share our enthusiasm."

"And for good reason." Arren Kae spoke next, shaking her head with an exasperated sigh. "What were you thinking, disappearing beyond the mid-rim without a word? Your investigation was _not_ supposed to stretch so far south of the galaxy."

Nomi angled her head in apology, "The Force guided my steps, Master Kae. It led me to these reaches of space."

"And the Force disabled your comms, too?" Said Illyc as he leaned back in his seat and joined his fingers. "Do not take us for fools, Sunrider."

"Allow the girl some respite, Illyc." Ah, Kreia. Always the gentle soul. "The poor thing is barely thirty. Let her enjoy what youthful years she still has."

"Age has no bearing on a trained jedi, old friend. Sunrider is the Grand Master of the order. Her place is amongst us, not in some backrocket corner of the galaxy. Besides, if we're speaking of age, look at master Kae—

"Please, keep my age out of this, master Illyc." Rebuked the concerned woman with a look that promised retribution. "You're treading on dangerous ground."

Nomi giggled, earning a glare from the older man. She waved it off and hid her lips behind a heaving hand.

"Boys and girls, please." Mock-pleaded Kreia as she worked to diffuse the tension.

Illyc huffed and Kae shrugged. Kreia chuckled at them both. "How is little Vima?" She said, and her aging face crinkled with genuine care.

"She's doing well." Nomi said, her features taking on a softer edge. "We've had a skirmish with some pirates earlier, and she defended herself admirably."

"Has she… taken a life, yet?" Asked Illyc, with an edge of worry that she rarely perceived on the man.

"Not yet. I took the brunt of the fighting. She simply provided assistance when required."

The masters hummed, reclining in their seats as Nomi recounted the events of the last two days.

"This pirate… Jekids, was it? He attacked the Arrow of Byss while the ship was on patrol along the Corellian Run?" said Illyc.

"Indeed."

"If I am not mistaken, wasn't the Arrow one of those Communications vessels? Those that relay information between the various sectors of the galaxy?" Arren Kae inquired, and Nomi nodded.

"It is. The same one relaying our transmission as we speak."

"And you still know nothing of their intentions?" Kreia asked.

"I'm afraid their motives are still a mystery. We found one of their gadgets, however, and the engineers of the Outrider are working to pick it apart." Nomi said, cradling her elbow and nudging her chin. "I also probed Jekid's mind. Though, I will need to meditate on what I saw before I can come up with anything concrete."

The masters nodded.

"For the time being, I suggest we forward this issue to the Ministry of Defense." Said Illyc after a pause. "We will convene on this matter properly if the Republic demands our input."

Nomi agreed, "I will instruct lieutenant Hilix and Captain Ulyz accordingly."

The older man hummed and crossed his legs as he leaned into his seat.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let us speak of something more urgent." Said Kreia.

"The disturbance in the Force." Concurred Kae. "You were supposed to investigate it and report back to the council, master Sunrider."

Nomi nodded and gestured to the space around her. "The darkness we felt is palpable in this sector. I feel its hounding presence whenever I meditate. I believe we're closing in on the source."

Arren Kae shook her head, "That might not be necessary. We believe we have found the origin of the malevolence."

Nomi raised a brow, lips pursing as she waited for the masters to elaborate.

"It's a Holocron." Explained Kreia, "One that has recently been found in the Arkanis Sector. We believe it to be the source."

Nomi crinkled her brows in thought. "A Holocron? Is that even possible?"

"It has happened before." Said Kreia, drawing from her knowledge as a jedi archivist. "A holocron of the dark lords— a repository of ancient sith teachings— can have a very noticeable signature if potent enough."

"That is why we must acquire it at all costs." Said Illyc with a deep frown. "Lest it falls into the hands of the unscrupulous. We do _not_ want a repeat of what happened with Kun and Qel-Droma."

Nomi twitched. Her breath caught in her throat for half a second before her moment of weakness passed. None of the masters seemed to have noticed, and the Sunrider chided herself for the lull in her guard.

"We have made arrangements with the local authorities to retrieve the Holocron." Said Illyc. "We want you to go there and bring it before the council."

"Me?" Nomi asked. "I'm… hesitant to take my padawan near a relic of the dark side. Perhaps another master or knight would be better suited?"

"Nomi." said Kae, "No other jedi are nearby. Our forces are spread too thin, and you're already close to the Arkanis Sector."

"Of course." Nomi's shoulders sagged as she sighed. "I will abide by the council's decision."

All three of the council members nodded at once.

"The Arkanis Sector, huh?" Nomi muttered after a pause, "If I remember well, it is home to three systems…"

"Geonosis, Arkanis and Tatoo." Nodded Kreia. "The Holocron was unearthed by the Czerka Corporation, somewhere on Tatooine."

For a reason that completely escaped her, the simple mention of the planet sent a shiver coursing down her spine. She felt a faint whisper nuzzle her mind, and she swiveled her head back, only to be met with nothingness.

"Master Sunrider?"

"It's… It's nothing." She said, eyes narrowing as she scanned the room. "Just an icky feeling."

* * *

The glaring suns of Tatooine flooded the streets of Hollowport in bright, searing light, beating its rays on the walls of stone and arcs of metal that formed the architecture of the settlement.

Emiya opened his palms and stretched his fingers, staring at the red marks that marred his skin. He had felt the rifle chafe his skin when he used it as a glorified club, and the exertion was still weighing on him.

"Are you okay?" Aola asked.

He nodded, turning to the downed thugs and walking up to them.

He gave both of them a kick to make sure they were unconscious, then proceeded to flip them on their backs to sift through their clothes.

Aola kneeled beside him, hands on her lap as she stared at him.

He noticed the question in her eyes before she spoke it. "They might have some valuables that we could use."

When the inner edges of her brows tilted upwards, he explained. "We need credits, and weapons." He lifted one of the blasters that he had picked up from the ground, earlier, for added effect.

"You might not like it, but know this: they wouldn't have hesitated to do worse to us."

Aola turned her eyes to the collapsed alien before nodding. "O-okay. Can I help?"

Emiya nodded. "Search this one. I'll take care of the large man."

He went over to the other thug, picking up HK-47's head on the way. The poor thing was still fuming, and he gave it a good shake to make sure nothing essential had fallen apart.

"Plea: M-master, please! My circuits are on fire, no need to jiggle me around like a snow globe!"

"You seem to be doing fine."

"Pity: Oh master, if you only knew. I feel like I've been whipped by a million vaults!"

"My condolences."

Emiya crouched by the large man and went about searching through his pockets.

In the end, they had gathered a pretty substantial loot.

Two small pistols in varying states of disrepair that HK identified as Aratech Hold-out blasters, compact weapons that were easily concealable. They came with a bunch of power cells that Emiya tried to fit into his rifle, to no avail. Apparently, his clunky weapon was an older model that required specialized batteries.

They had also found a few dozens of credits, various knickknacks as well as small pouches full of some brown powder. HK had identified it as _Spice._ Emiya knew the drugs would sell for a hefty sum, but his conscience wouldn't allow it. Also, he was pretty sure he'd need to find someone _willing_ to take the drugs off his hands, first, before he even considered selling it. Not to mention the sort of attention that would earn him, what with him being a child, and all, but he digressed.

Emiya proceeded to test his new weapons on the small sacks. They left a pretty little ashen stain on the ground, and he was surprised at the output of the blaster, even when set to low power. The noise had been minimal, too, easily smothered by the thrum of constant conversation and machinery that leaked from the surrounding streets.

The pistols had reasonable recoil that accompanied the bolt of discharged yellow energy. He could wield them even with his small body, though a thought struck his mind when he observed the weapons in action.

"So, since these have recoil, I'm guessing they shoot plasma, not lasers?"

"Praise: Why, indeed. I am impressed. And here I pegged you as physics impaired."

Emiya gave the droid a glare before rewarding him with a vigorous shake.

"Explanation: A-anyways. Yes, common blasters fire bolts of energized gas, otherwise known as plasma. They require both a Gas Chamber and a Power Pack in order to function."

Emiya stared at the batteries in his hand. "How often does it need to be reloaded?"

"Answer: Mileage may vary, but with the common power packs at your disposal, you'd need to change them out every one hundred shots. The gas chamber, however, can fuel up to five hundred bolts."

Emiya nodded. "We have… six batteries and two chambers, including the ones already fitted. That counts for upwards of six hundred shots across both blasters."

"Warning: Be careful not to shoot them too fast, master. These small pistols are prone to overheating."

Emiya hummed. He wondered how expensive the ammo sold for. If the prices were too high, he'd need to fire the weapons in moderation.

He felt Aola's gaze on him when it lingered, and turned to her.

She was staring at the other blaster holstered on his hip, twiddling her fingers and moving her lips in silence as if wanting to ask.

He pulled the blaster out of its holster and presented it to her.

She received it with wide eyes. "I can have it?"

Emiya shrugged. "Do you know how to use it?"

Aola nodded. "Dad… showed me how, back on the farm. We used to shoot down krayts, together, when they got too close to the moisture collectors."

Emiya hummed, taking a look at his own weapon. The shots he had fired earlier had been almost on the mark, only impaired by his lack of strength and his unfamiliarity with energy guns, and he wondered how someone more experienced with the blasters would fare.

He picked a rock that was lying nearby and threw it close to the dead-end on the other side of the alley.

He pointed a small finger towards the stone. "Can you shoot it?"

Aola's gaze shifted between the blaster and the rock, before eventually settling on him.

She gave him a nod, then resolutely lifted the weapon and aimed it down the alley.

He noted the flaws in her posture and the way she gripped the blaster almost immediately, but kept it to himself. He would right her mistakes later on, when they weren't pressed for time.

They waited until a ship flew by before she pulled the trigger with a trembling finger, slightly jumping back from the recoil as a bolt of yellow plasma careened towards the rock and pulverized it on impact.

"Not bad." Emiya intoned, and the girl turned with a smile and colored cheeks.

He unbuckled the empty holster on his hip and gave it to her.

"T-thanks."

"Opinion: That was passable at best." The droid huffed, "But I suppose it _is_ expected given your age."

HK earned a glare and a pull of the tongue from the Twi'lek.

Emiya shook his head.

They gathered their loot and stuffed it into two bags; one for him, and a lighter one for the girl. They slung them over their shoulders and walked to the cusp of the alley that opened up on the busy streets bathed in lights from the twin suns overhead.

"Aola." Emiya addressed the twi'lek, turning to her and staring deep into her purple orbs. "I need you to stay here and keep your eyes on the crowd."

"Huh?"

"Can you do that?" he asked, stepping before her and tugging at the edges of her hood to conceal the lekku that threatened to poke through.

"Y-yes?"

"Good." He turned to HK, whom he had buried into Aola's satchel, much to her horror. "Keep an eye on her, will you? There is something I need to take care of. And Aola?"

"Yes?"

"Don't follow me."

He waited until she nodded and turned to the thick throngs on the street before he walked back into the alley.

He grabbed each of the thugs, beginning with the red-skinned alien and dragged them behind a mound of junk and litter that he put together, where they would be out of sight if anyone looked in from the streets. The human had been by far the hardest to move, for obvious reasons, and he had struggled for a minute before deciding that rolling him over would be easier than pulling his enormous husk by the limbs.

He sat them side by side, the alien's head falling over the man's shoulder. They almost looked like a couple, resting together.

He turned to where Aola and HK were standing, and he noticed the twi'lek trying to peep on him.

He shook his head when she met his eyes, and she turned back with a fluster.

Emiya pulled out his blaster and set the power from low to lethal.

He checked on Aola again. She had her head bowed, probably speaking with HK, though he wasn't sure.

He aimed the weapon with both hands, waited until a ship flew overhead, buffeting the air with the roar of its engines, then pulled the trigger twice.

The smell of ozone filled the air, mixing with the stench of crisped flesh and burning fat. Emiya holstered the gun underneath his cloak and walked away.

"Let's go." He said, once he reached Aola.

She gave him a hesitant nod, throwing a curious glance back into the alley before hastening to catch up when he stepped into the busy street.

* * *

By the time they had stepped into the central district, it was clear to Emiya that the atmosphere here was far more controlled and policed than what he had seen so far.

One of the first things he noticed was the smell. It was a whirlwind of scents and flavors that took the whole district by storm, wafting the strong aromas of roasted meats and fried dough that spiced up the sweet fragrances and perfumes that seemed to permeate certain parts of the avenue. Emiya could only smell hints of the district's aura, however, teasing him with promises of delicious foods and expensive toiletries from where he stood together with Aola on the edge of the area.

All around them, people by the dozens spilled into the plaza from the surrounding districts, spreading through the web of streets and alleys that converged on the large, monolithic avenue that sliced through the center of the district and ran through a long chasm in the crust.

Czerka's security personnel was scattered along the edges where low slung buildings of concrete and steel merged with veritable labyrinths of rusticated houses and passages that tunneled through the stone and rimmed the edges of the rift. Archways hung overhead, suspended over the darkened divide filled with merchants and workshops, and perused by a constant flow of patrons and customers that livened up the stretches of the district.

It felt like a world apart from the streets they had crossed not an hour ago, where chaotic stalls and junk littered the stony pavement and crooks of every degree stalked the unfortunate and the unaware. A feeling that was further validated when a shuttle flew overhead, carrying a dozen Czerka Enforcers in combat attire watching over the tourists and the locals.

"Let's go." He grabbed Aola's hand and slowly led her forward, following the masses as they made their way into the avenue. "Don't let go."

As they walked, a realization dawned on Emiya, and the name of Hollowport came to his mind. From the unmissable Czerka tower huddled in the dry rocks and piercing through to god only knew where, to the buildings and tunnels that seemed to expand and circumnavigate under the rock and along the chasm, it was clear to Emiya why it was named as such. He wondered if the large, sharp-edged mountain of auburn rocks that loomed over the outpost really was as hollow as he imagined it to be, and if so, what could Czerka be hiding inside?

Such thoughts were squashed out of his mind when the hustle and bustle of the district entered his ears, almost causing him to squint in annoyance when the voices and screeches of species of every colors and lengths battled for dominance over his senses, along with the roaring of engines and hums of servos. He covered one of his ears when the piercing voice of a particularly high-strung alien shouted from the corner of a nearby stall, and Emiya threw a silent curse his way.

At some point, he thought he heard HK's voice, and turned to Aola only to find her staring at a trio of droids pushing their way through the other side of the avenue, blasters bared across their metallic arms.

If not for the colors— obsidians streaked with silvers— he would have confused them for clones of HK.

"Observation: HK series twenty-two. Don't be fooled, master. Those are mere imitations; Paltry frauds with a sleek hull and no personality. They couldn't hold a bulb to my brightness."

Before Emiya could comment, Aola was pushed against him by the flow of the masses that left them no choice but to continue onwards.

"Sorry." The girl said, trying in vain to push herself off.

"It's alright," Emiya said, "In fact, stay like this. We don't want to be separated."

Aola nodded, hugging his arm close as they trudged through the crowds.

"Assessment: I find this position very stifling. Master, please, find me some spare limbs the next time we step into a store."

They kept on walking together for the better part of an hour, before eventually taking a turn that split off the main path and led them up a flight of broad, white stairs and lined with equally bright abodes.

Aola let go of his arm as soon as they stepped into wider space and refused to meet his eyes.

"Everything okay?" Emiya asked, dusting off the sand and grime that had gotten onto his cloak.

The girl nodded, staring at her palm with an unreadable expression.

"Where do we go from here?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"The inn, remember? The one you and your father used to frequent?"

"Ah!" Realization dawned on her and she took point, avoiding his gaze as she led the march. "I-it shouldn't be too far from here."

Emiya tilted his head before shrugging and following the twi'lek.

* * *

By the time they arrived in front of the domed structure, the sun was already hanging low, shedding orange hues all over the outpost.

His eyes were attracted by the large sign that hung over the entrance of the inn, where bold, stylized glyphs painted the name of the establishment.

"What was its name, again?" he asked.

"Yuna Puna Winkee." Said Aola. "This is it."

"Translation: This is Huttese. It roughly means _First Class Sleep_ , if my memory banks serve me right."

 _Yuna Puna Winkee, really._ Emiya shook his head with a smirk. It almost sounded like something a parent would tell their infant to keep them from crying. He wondered why his translator hadn't, well, translated the words, but he figured Huttese didn't figure on its list of supported lingo.

With a nod to his companion, he led the group through the wood-fronted entrance.

* * *

Inside of the inn was fairly large. Dimmed lights hung from the arched ceiling above, and the hum of air conditioning kept the temperature at controlled levels.

Tables and cushioned chairs occupied the majority of the hall, where more than a dozen people were seated and enjoying either drinks or foods, judging from the smell of stirred vegetables and cooked fish that seemed to imbue the air.

The walls were bare, built of either flat concrete or smoothed stone sprinkled with old stains of splattered somethings.

They walked up to a bar that adjoined a set of stairs that led to the upper floors. A bored-looking creature sat on the other end, head resting on its palm as it drummed its fingers on the counter.

"Achuta, strangers," It said through large nostrils, "welcome to Yuna Puna Winkee, How can I help you?"

"We'd like a room for the night." Emiya said, pushing a chip of credits onto the counter.

The clerk shrugged, the motion sending ripples through its thick, bubbly skin. "Cha skrunee da pat." It wiggled a slimy finger in the air. "Place is full. Y'might wanna check somewhere else."

"Are you sure?" Emiya asked, pushing another chip towards the alien. Aola had told him how her father had used to treat with the owner, and had given him an estimation of the prices they could expect. He was only willing to go so far over what they could safely fork over.

The slit-eyed creature stared at the credits with disinterest. "Yanee dah poo noo."

Emiya slid another chip on the counter. He didn't understand the spoken, but the expressed? That, he had no problem deciphering.

The creature smiled, or whatever the expression it made when it moved its lips and slurped its tongue without a sound. "Bargon."

It slid the chips off the counter and threw them into a safe before whistling through its mucky lips.

Before long, a female, not unlike the one that had cornered them a short while ago, approached. She was… exotically attractive, with white tentacles falling over a light dress that left a gaping triangle over her chest— only suggestive enough to tease— and split on either side of her waist, leaving most of her red-skinned legs exposed.

The owner gave her a set of instructions in huttese before it turned back to Emiya and motioned for them to follow.

The togruta— whose species he had learned about earlier from Aola— bowed and smiled then waved gracefully towards the stairs, and the trio followed as she led them to the second floor. If he compared her to a human female, she couldn't have been older than sixteen. He wondered if the girl was working here of her own accord, or coerced into service through less than colorful means.

She took them to one of the rooms, unlocked it, then invited them inside with practiced gestures.

"Enjoy your stay." She said, once they had stepped into the room, and left them with a card key before closing the door behind her.

Room sixteen, as marked on the card, was rather small. A closet was standing to the side, and two beds were pushed up against opposing walls, with enough distance between them for an adult to sit down and spray their arms. To his dismay, the beds didn't seem very appealing; a thin mattress sprung over a metallic frame with a blanket and a pillow strewn over it. Thankfully, the sheets looked clean enough, but Emiya decided that laying his cloak over the bed would be a proper course of action.

There was a small window, too, framing the wall opposite the entrance. A round, steel-rimmed thing that dampened the noise coming from the avenue far below. The aroma of food and the greasy stench of machinery threatened to fill the room when he gave it a push, however, and he closed the window before the smells got out of control.

He followed Aola, who had opened one of two doors that branched into a small restroom and a bathroom with a tub, a sink, a small cabinet as well as a few pieces of furniture whose function completely eclipsed him. Accommodations for various alien species, he reasoned.

They walked back into the room proper and Emiya offered Aola to pick a bed, before he took off his cloak and dropped his bag and rifle on the one that lined the eastern wall.

The girl let out a heavy sigh of relief as she plopped onto her bed and took off her boots, wriggling her small, blue toes as she worked to untangle her lekkus from around her neck.

"Query: Would it be too much to ask for a breath of fresh air?"

Aola opened her satchel and dropped HK's head onto the mattress.

"Pleased: Much appreciated. Meatbag."

Emiya stretched his arms and swiveled his shoulder, working out the fatigue of the day. He sat cross-legged on his bed then opened his bag and lined up the loot on the sheets.

Aola came over with her own and sat on the edge of his bed. She emptied the contents of her satchel and arranged them next to his.

"A single night cost us twelve credits." He commented as his eyes roamed over their loot.

Aola angled her head. "Dad paid the owner eight creds the last time we came."

"Meaning either the alien swindled us out of four credits, or the prices went up."

"Opinion: I am personally partial to the former. I say we take a blaster and ram it up his—mmmhf!"

"Language." Said Emiya as he buried the droid under his pillow.

Aola giggled, and HK eventually acceded after a series of choked tones and outraged beeps.

"Still," he said, counting what credits they had left. "This leaves us with a hundred and twenty-six credits, enough for ten more nights if the owner doesn't ramp up the prices."

"Celebration: Hooray, we have six credits to play with. What a fortune."

"Maybe we can find some work?" Said Aola, poking the knickknacks they had taken from the thieves. "Or maybe we can trade these things at the market?"

Emiya nodded. "It's worth a shot." He tried to figure out what could be sold and what was trash, but between the cheap-looking necklaces and the beads of colored glass, their prospects looked increasingly glum. Why would anyone carry around those in their pockets, anyway? Unless they had been stolen and tucked away for a later sale.

Well, it was better than nothing.

He picked up all of the loot and placed it in his pack, leaving Aola with her own essentials that she stuffed in the small satchel. He allowed her to take his bag and she put both away in the closet.

"The bathroom is yours if you want to shower first." Emiya offered.

Aola stared at him for a moment before accepting. "Thanks."

She rummaged through her things and took out a change of clean clothes before skipping over to the bathroom with a smile and closing the door behind her.

Emiya shuffled back until his back leaned against the wall and his feet dangled off the edge of the bed. He rested his head against the hard stone and closed his eyes.

Overall, Hollowport had been a rather exotic experience. Sure, they had stepped into the settlement and had been ambushed not an hour later, but the sights he had perceived left him with a desire to see more.

It had been a long time— longer than the few weeks he had spent on Tatooine— since he had had the freedom to experience new places and meet new people. His crusade had taken him on a tunneled path caked with blood and marred with broken blades, and the few companions he had made along the way eventually took off on their own.

Oh, some had stayed behind, even standing by his side until _that_ fateful day, and together they had toured the world, looking for wrongs to right, or on a contract for the clock tower or the church, going after rogue magi and deleterious ghouls.

But the liberty to go around and enjoy the sights for what they were, rather than looking for the smallest signs of wrongdoing… that kind of freedom, he couldn't remember having ever really enjoyed.

His overpowering desire to save the helpless had blinded him to everything else, even to the emotions of those closest to him, and he had lost even those on his way to a life of servitude to the collective consciousness of mankind that had left him a broken shell of what he had once been.

His memories fuzzed out, beyond that point. Becoming blurry recollections of things that had been and things that _could_ have been. But a picture still hung in the recesses of his soul; an album of shapes and faces that had marked his soul and changed him for the better. There was one memory he remembered most, however. A face framed in long, flowing black hair. Eyes as blue as the ocean and a temperament as fickle as the wind. The one who had offered him the keys to his salvation and forced them into his hands when he had refused to seize them…

"Query: Master? May we have words?"

Emiya opened his eyes and turned to the head sitting on his pillow.

"Since when has my saying no ever stopped you?"

The droid thrummed. Its eyes took on a slew of different tints before settling on their normal orange. "Statement: I will be frank. I've tried turning this around in my processors, but I can't seem to reach a satisfying conclusion."

Emiya drummed his fingers over the mattress as he waited for him to continue. He heard a hushed shriek coming from the bathroom followed by a soft thud and a mild curse.

"Query: Master, what are you, really?"

Emiya turned to the droid and raised a brow. "That's a strange question."

"Observation: And you're a strange human, with all due respect."

Emiya shrugged "There is nothing more to me than meets the eye."

"Clarification: I am not asking for what I can clearly see, Master. I am asking for what is beyond your flesh. Your _soul,_ as you meatbags like to call it."

Emiya crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Where did this come from?"

HK's oculars dimmed, and Emiya had a feeling he would have shrugged if he had had the shoulders to do it. "Answer: Your actions, mostly. As well as what few words of wisdom you occasionally share."

Emiya nodded him on. He had been expecting this sort of conversation to happen sooner or later.

"Statement: It started from the moment we met, really. The fact that I had been repaired by a ten-year-old had been intriguing, at first, but I chalked it up to some blooming genius."

Emiya angled his head. "That's nothing out of the ordinary. I'm sure many more out there could do better."

"Correction: That would have been true, master, if not for the talents you displayed in other areas."

"Rhetoric: Would a ten-year-old cook for an entire clan of jawas and enthrall them with his culinary talents? Would he spend the majority of his days going around their Sandcrawler and cleaning, helping and overall being better at household chores than a specialized droid?"

Emiya shook his head. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to help."

"Response: While I would never consider doing any of those, I can understand the basic concepts that you humans call Empathy and helpfulness. However, there is a limit. What you did was not simply _helping_ , it teetered on selflessness. And don't even get me started on how you acted earlier today. The way you stood before the girl like a meat shield had my servos screeching more than once."

The bed squeaked as Emiya bent forward, resting his head on his palm and his elbows on his knees.

"Am I being lectured by a droid with psychopathic tendencies?"

"Answer: Is this a lecture? Dear heavenly machines, I would never!"

Emiya shook his head and let out a breath.

"Statement: Let me reiterate: You _are_ a weird human, master. But that is _not_ to say I dislike you. At first, I thought you were a stuck-up goodie-two-shoes who would sooner clean a thug's shoe than stand up to them, but today's actions left me stunned. In more ways than one."

"It was self-defense. Anyone else would have done the same." He waved.

"Correction: Self-defense does not usually involve the brutal execution of unconscious criminals."

Emiya raised a brow. "You noticed."

"Answer: Of course I did, master. It would have been harder not to. And I believe even the blue meatbag has."

Emiya turned to the bathroom. Well, if she had noticed, there was nothing he could do about it.

"I feel like there is something I need to make clear, HK." He said, taking the droid and holding it before him. "What I did was out of necessity. If those thugs had woken up with their pockets empty and a swelling headache, they would have sought revenge. If it had been only me, that might have been fine. But if they had come after Aola and brought along their friends, the resolution would have been disastrous."

"Observation: You could have informed the Czerka enforcers."

He gave the droid a pointed stare and poked what passed for its forehead. "Really, now? You of all people should know how that would have turned out. Most of them can't be trusted. Isn't that what you said?"

"Correction: That was merely my opinion, master. A belief based on previous dealings of the corporation and their tendency to only care for their own gains."

Emiya stared deep into the orange rectangles. "Yet, you were right. I've seen more than enough to be convinced. If we had gone to them, they would have either ignored us, or sold us to some local crime lord for a wad of credits."

"Assessment: Brilliant. You really are one of a kind, master." The droid said. "Yet, I cannot help but think that there was a deeper meaning behind your actions.

Query: Was it justice? Morality? One of those concepts you organics seem to love?"

Emiya narrowed his eyes. "Nothing so grand." His shoulders heaved. "Just the desire to see criminals who would harm and sell children be given proper punishment."

"Observation: And you doled out the sentence yourself." The droid hummed. "Judge, jury and executioner."

Emiya leaned back against the wall. He wasn't sure where the droid was trying to go, but he indulged him nonetheless. He had nothing better to do, after all.

"Commentary: I must say, master, I am quite pleased."

"I have a feeling I know why."

"Correction: Don't get me wrong, master. My motivators are not hampered by the beliefs and morals you fleshbags cling to. I would have no problem killing a child or their mother in cold indifference if my master ordered it. That is simply the way I was programmed."

He knew. The jawa chieftain had given him a run-down of HK's primary functions and priorities. The droid was an assassination unit, a faulty one with corrupted protocols, but one that specialized in swift murder nonetheless.

"Statement: What pleases me is the fact that, for once, I am in the service of a master that is _not_ afraid to soil his palms. You may be only a child, but you have shown a degree of maturity and insight that even grown-men lack."

"Is that so?" Emiya intoned, crossing his arms and staring at the droid in his lap. "Is that your assessment of what I am? A pragmatic kid for whom the ends justify the means?"

"Answer: Someone who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to reach for it." The droid thrummed. "You're a kind soul. You hide it beneath a mask of stoicism and feigned indifference, but I cannot be fooled. You seek justice, or at least your own conception of what it should be, and are willing to deliver it by your own hands. I believe your dedication is admirable, even if your softness makes me want to puke, at times."

Emiya leaned in after a pause, a hand rubbing his chin. "Don't you think you're assuming too much?"

"Correction: I am merely presuming based on prior observations."

"Well, congratulations." Mock-praised Emiya, "You seem to have reached a satisfying conclusion. I can neither deny nor confirm any of your allegations."

"Opinion: it matters not." The droid said, "You are my master. At the end of the day, my opinion of you does not matter."

"Not even a bit?"

"Answer: Well, I might miss a shot or two if your selflessness goes overboard, but nothing too tragic."

Emiya threw his hands in the air in mock defeat. "I'm afraid we may need to look for better calibrators in the future."

"Assessment: I would prefer a set of limbs and a chassis, first, before you go on a shopping spree, master."

Emiya huffed. "I don't know," he said, "I feel like that might just make you more rebellious."

"Statement: Now _that_ is just plain bullying isn't it?"

Emiya smirked and pushed the droid aside as he stood off the bed.

"We'll see about getting you a new body once our finances allow it."

"Answer: That is all I am asking for. Bless your heart, Oh benevolent master of mine!"

Emiya shook his head with an amused sigh. He made his way towards the restroom and pushed the door open.

"Warning: Uhm, Master? I think you have the wrong door."

"What are you on ab—"

His words caught in his throat when he took a single step into the _bathroom._ Aola was there, standing still and wrapping a towel around her—

He slammed the door with a rattling bang and pressed his forehead against the metal when a muted scream entered his ears.

He ran a palm over his face and shook his head. _Fantastic._

He blamed it all on HK.

* * *

She wanted to die! To bury her face under her pillow and let the lack of air choke her embarrassment away!

It was a wonder she had been able to put on some clothes and stammer out of the bathroom before throwing herself under her sheets.

He had tried to talk to her, but she had ignored it. She couldn't bring herself to face him. And it was her fault.

Well, mostly. She had completely forgotten to lock the door and her friend had stepped inside when her bareness was on full display.

She knew he had some part to play in the accident, but she really wasn't in the mood to blame it on him.

All she wanted to do was stay under her blanket for the rest of her days. Maybe the deep tones coloring her face would fade if she waited long enough?

"Warning: If you don't put an end to your constant squeaks and squirms, you'll soon find yourself on my top three of priority targets."

Aola shuffled under her sheets and poked an eye from under her pillow.

The droid was on _his_ bed, lounging on _his_ pillow.

"I hate _you._ " She said with a small glare.

"Mockery: Such impudence from a tiny little blue thing. The feeling is shared, meatbag."

Aola pulled her tongue at the scrap-head. "Why are you always so mean?!"

"Statement: Mean? Me? I have always been on my _best_ behavior, fleshbag."

The girl huffed. "That's bumblefluff!"

"Correction: The word you're looking for is sarcasm."

Aola glared with all the intensity her thin little face could muster and retreated back under her sheets before the droid could annoy her any further.

She hated the thing. It was cold, cruel and its voice grated on her ears. Maybe she could throw it out the window while her friend was busy in the bathroom?

She imagined his scrappiness hurling through the night air and falling on some unsuspecting person's head. Okay, that might be too mean and she had a feeling her friend wouldn't praise her for it.

She let out a deep sigh as she hugged her knees.

She thought back to the afternoon; to their confrontation with those thieves.

She could still feel her heart thumping through her ears. The fear she had felt, both for herself and her friend, had been overpowering. She had thought the thieves would take them and sell them to the slavers; that they would end up as toys for the hutts or working somewhere in the mines deep below the sands.

But they had been saved. Well, _she_ had been saved, and her friend had _done_ the saving.

She could still recall it; the way he stood before her, shielding her from the leering gazes of those brutes. The way he beat them up with speed and strength she didn't think a child could have. Were all humans like that? The boy had been her first human friend, so she didn't know.

He had even given her a pistol and praised her when she fired it. She thanked the long days she had spent with her father for that, who taught her all she knew about blasters while they sat under the shade of their house and watched over the machines.

The memory brought to her mind the sound of blaster shots, and she thought back to when her friend had asked her to wait for him while he took care of his _business._ She hadn't understood him at the time, thinking he was probably going to relieve himself away from view. Oh, how much of an idiot she had been.

She wasn't sure how she felt about what he did. Sure, those thugs had tried to rob and enslave them, but did he really have to …shoot them? Couldn't he have alerted the guards or something?

Maybe he didn't because he knew better than her? She shrugged. He always knew better than her.

She flexed her fingers and stared at her small palm. His warmth was still there. From when he had grabbed her hand and held her close when they passed through the central avenue. Okay, she might have been the one doing the hugging, but did it really matter?

Her cheeks flushed even darker when she heard the sound of water hitting the floor. She imagined the droplets clinging to his white hair, slowly slithering down his dark skin—

She shook her head and shut her eyes when the ends of her lekkus started tingling.

Once she had calmed down enough, she pulled the blankets from over her head and turned to the ceiling.

There was a lamp hanging from the stone, shedding dim, yellow light over their beds.

She sighed.

Her stomach gurgled.

"Shock: What in the master's name was that noise?!"

Aola frowned and turned to the wall. She hugged her hands to her stomach when the latter threatened to erupt in a chorus of noises.

She wished she could have had something to eat besides the slips of jerky the jawas had given them. They had been walking for the better part of the day and hadn't had the time to sit down and have a proper meal. She knew they wouldn't be having anything for dinner, either. The credits they had wouldn't last if they spent them on both extravagant food _and_ lodging.

If only they had a kitchen and some ingredients. She knew her friend would have worked his magic and made them a tasty little meal if he could. He was like that. He may look scary or grumpy sometimes, but he was also one of the kindest and bravest souls she knew. Maybe even _the_ bravest.

She cringed when she thought back to the time they had first met. She hadn't been in the best of moods when she had tried to tackle him to the floor, and she had yet to apologize. He had done so much for her, and she wished she could do something in return.

Maybe she could scrub his back or wash his hair? She shook her head. She had a feeling he wouldn't want that.

Okay, maybe there were other things she could do to help him… or not. It's not like he needed someone to cook for him or clean his clothes. But she had a blaster now, so, couldn't she protect him instead?

…Except he was better than her at that, too.

She stroked her lekku when her frustration started to build.

There had to be something she could do. Something that could make her stronger or more reliable. She knew what happened to deadweights and freeloaders; those people who refused to work and often ended up laboring at the bottom of a Hutt's mine on the best of days. She didn't want that. And she didn't want it for her friend, either. Maybe if they took HK and forced him to work, that would be okay.

She imagined the droid, strapped to the torso of some hulking man and forced to give directions as the giant trailed a heavy hammer through the sand. She giggled.

But for now, her eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

Maybe she'd think it over in the morning?

Yeah, that sounded nice…

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

First time writing a dialogue-heavy piece like this. I hope it came out fine, you wouldn't believe the amount of time I spent re-reading and editing this chapter. Yet, I'm sure there are quite a few things I've missed.

I know many of you are wondering where exactly on the timeline this story takes place. If you're familiar with the Sunrider saga, or even just with Kreia and Arren Kae (Not Illyc. Him and the pirates are complete OCs), you should have figured it out. For those that haven't, The Sunrider Saga is a series of Star Wars Old Republic Comics that take place between 4000 BBY (Before the battle of Yavin, IE; the original Star Wars Saga.), and 3986 BBY, the year during which the events of this fic take place. For further reference, the Mandalorian wars of the Old Republic started in 3976, and the evens of KOTOR began in 3956. Oh, and I've taken some liberties as far as the ages of some characters go.

Are you confused? Disappointed that you won't get to see Luke, Han and Leia? I'm afraid this isn't their story. This is Revan's. or Emiya's, really. Or is it both?

 **Old Republic Rant:** I'm well aware that this timeline creates discrepancies. Like the fact that HK is around despite him having only been constructed later on by Revan after the Mandalorian wars, but I have a reason for this that should be revealed later in the story. I chose this period because it allows me to feature my favorite characters from all of Star Wars. This includes Revan, Malak, Bastilla, the Sunriders, Meetra Surik, Kreia, the Echani, the Mandalorians and many more. Also, just a tidbit of info, but did you know that Vima Sunrider was originally supposed to take Bastilla's place in the KOTOR games, but the idea was canned due to legal issues?

Thanks for the reviews, as always. I've had someone offer to beta-read any future chapters, but I'm not really sure how that works. If anyone is interested, send me a PM and we'll talk it out.

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 **Update (5th of October, 2018):** About Aola's last scene: some people have pointed out that a ten-year-old shouldn't have those kinds of thoughts, and you'd be correct, if Aola were a human child. She's not, however. She's a twi'lek, and I remember reading somewhere that twi'leks hit puberty earlier than humans, though I can't really quote any source, since it's been a long time I've read that. But yeah, I admit; I wrote that scene at 3 A.M and was seriously sleep-deprived by that point, so I take all the blame. There will be far less of that in the future, that much I can guarantee. Thanks for the feedback!

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I've started a patre( **on** ) page, if anyone is interested.

You can find it on patre(on) slash kylesentient.

See you soon!


	7. Foray Into the Dark

**_PS: This chapter may or may not have been edited at two in the morning. Please, have some mercy…_**

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Puberty would be a nightmare.

It was hard enough dealing with his small and disturbingly sweet voice, or the shortness of his limbs and weakness thereof, but having to suffer through hormone spikes and all that came with those? He did not fancy having to go through that period of his life again.

Emiya ran a small hand through his wet mop of grayish hair and let out a sigh.

He had no idea how long it had been since he had last seen himself in a glass. His reflection was foggy, displaying the outline of a child whose appearance had become alien to him. It brought forth a certain nostalgia within his heart, poking at memories that had long since become dead to the ages and buried beneath mounds and mounds of rusted steel.

There were pieces he remembered, however; pieces that were as much a part of him as his now-absent magic, such as the gray of his hair, sleeked back and away like marbled leather that fell over the back of his skull.

Now, with the bangs that hung over his forehead and threatened to cover his eyes, he wasn't sure the small face that stared back through the glass was even his own.

The jawas hadn't had mirrors on their Sandcrawler. Their restrooms were small spaces outfitted with the bare minimum in terms of conveniences – and mirrors hadn't factored in. Not that it had ever bothered him. He had always known how his body was structured and reacted to his whims and thoughts, and that had been enough. Even when he had appeared on this strange and intriguing world, it hadn't taken him too long to figure out the general shape and size of his limbs. It had required some getting used to, that much was a given, but in the end, he couldn't have let something so insignificant take his eyes off the more surreal strangeness of his surroundings.

Thankfully, and as one would expect from an establishment that touted itself asfirst-class– or any self-respecting one, really – there was a mirror nailed to one of the walls of the small bathing area allotted to their rented room. Emiya draped a towel over his shoulders as he leaned over the sink and stared into the blotchy, fogged-up glass.

He ran a hand over the mist, tugged at the skin beneath his eye and stared at the silver of his iris. He wondered why his body had retained the same tones from his older days. If his assumptions were correct, and something had summoned him in the body of a child, why didn't his vessel take on the looks of his younger self, auburn hair and all?

A bundle of gray fell over his eye and he brushed it away. His hair had gotten long— longer than he usually let it grow— and soon he might need to either have it cut, or wear it behind in a short tail. He pictured what it would look like if he ever nurtured a mullet, and quickly swept the idea away. There was only so much he was willing to put himself through.

His eyes followed the lines of his neck as he caressed the edge of his translator, before he clasped it back just below the Adam's apple that would certainly bulge out in a few years.

He finished drying his hair and toweled off the rest of his body.

He put on a change of clothing he had rummaged from his bag; a white tunic and beige pants that reached all the way down to his feet, with broad ends that would fit nicely into his boots. The colors were an antithesis to what he had used to wear; dark reds on blacks and silvers, but he didn't exactly have a choice. Besides, what would the locals think if they saw a boy wearing such flamboyant and eye-catching colors under the scorching suns of Tatooine? An idiot looking for trouble, he figured. An easy target that'd wear its naivety like a cloak.

Emiya shook his head.

He made sure the tub and floor were clean and mopped-up, then threw his dirtied clothes over the hamper by the corner and stepped out of the bath.

The faint light from the ceiling was the first to greet his eyes, and the room smelled faintly of old, aging stone tinged with the fading smell of shampoo and soap.

He found… a bump lying under the sheets of Aola's bed, rising and falling to the rhythm of quiet breathing. He walked up to her and pulled the blanket down until it rested just below her chin. She was sleeping calmly, face relaxed and the edges of her lips slightly curled upwards.

He turned to his bed. The droid was sitting on his pillow, still and quaint.

Emiya picked it up and stared at its eyes, the colors of which slowly alternating between dimmed oranges and dark browns. He gave it a knock, then a shake when the droid did not respond.

He looked around the room before deciding that the windowsill would be as good a spot to leave the flinty head as any.

He walked across and peered through the glass at the avenue far below, lined with distant lights and still dotted with merchants and patrons alike. The faint whisper of the hustle and bustle from the streets nudged his ears and he wondered what sort of activities the people of Hollowport gave themselves to, when the already questionable scrutiny of Czerka was at its lowest.

"Enjoy the view," he said, sliding the ball of steel and electronics up against the glass.

The sheets rustled as Emiya sat on the mattress and tucked his feet under his thighs. He closed one eye and rubbed the sides of his head, all the while staring at the droid from the corner of his open eye.

It wasn't the first time he had seen HK in a similar state. The droid tended to engage its power-saving protocols whenever it was low on energy, and he figured HK's stunt from this morning had taken its toll on the droid.

He was still there, however, only aware enough to respond to critical situations and emergencies. His sensors would be active throughout the night, and Emiya knew he could trust him to keep an eye on the room. Not that he wouldn't be leaving an eye and an ear out himself, but his body was still young and growing, and he wasn't sure his awareness would hold out through the night. There was only so much he could pull through willpower alone.

Emiya turned to his lap and closed both eyes. The night was running short, and he still had his nightly ritual to go through before dropping his head on the pillow.

He lowered his arms onto his lap and let the calm and stillness of the room lull him into relaxation. The lullaby of quiet snoring and the soft noises that drifted through the closed window accompanied the serene breath that came out of his nose.

Meditation was one of those skills he had adopted since his earlier days. The memories of his living were lost to the ages and the forces that had seized his life, but there were a few scraps and indelible stills that were forever etched into his soul.

The picture of a lonely shed came to his mind, of the nights he had spent in tears and sweat, struggling to use even the simplest of magic. There was also a face there, set against a bright moon and unparalleled in its beauty, framed in gold and embedded with deep, vibrant jewels the color of a vibrant forest.

A small frown tugged at his brows when _her_ voice echoed through his mind; remnants of words stringed upon the thread of a solemn vow that had sung the prelude to his quest.

Emiya shook his head. There was no point in reminiscing about old phantoms.

He focused inward and brushed the superfluous thoughts away.

There were many techniques he knew, as far as meditation went. Rituals of the mind and body he had learned at some point during his life. All preached aspects of introspection and favored one path over another, but he had never dedicated himself to a single school in particular. His was a translation of years of observation and assumption, blended with the spiritual tenets and teachings of _Kyudo_ and other eastern martial arts, through which he could sharpen both mind and body, erase doubt and focus solely on his objective.

It was what had given him the edge needed to further understand his magic, and actualize it to levels so far beyond what a normal magus could understand.

Emiya eased out the tension in his limbs. He took in a deep breath, held it in for a few beats, then slowly let it out through his nostrils.

He repeated the process with slow, methodic inhales and exhales over the span of several minutes. Before long, his breathing slowed and a veil of calm and perceived stillness settled over him.

"Trace, on." He murmured.

The picture of a steel rod came to his mind, the air shimmering and sizzling around it as the burning tong pushed itself further down his backbone. He ignored the pain and concentrated until he felt the searing pole slide into place and fuse with his spine.

Emiya let out a single breath when the process was complete. What had used to take him hours, now only required minutes.

He focused on the sheets beneath him, spread over the mattress, itself resting on a steel frame propped up over the stone. Blue lines streaked through the darkness of his closed vision and filled his mind, coursing through the void of his consciousness and sketching an outline of his surroundings.

He saw his pillow through his mind's eye, lined with blue and strewn over a glowing sketch of his sheets. He saw the imperfections in the frame of his bed, every dent and chink of the steel obvious to his magic. He saw the blue-streaked contours of Aola, turning on her bed until her back rested against the mattress.

He focused further, and the lines smeared across the walls and floor like veins throbbing with energy.

The web of glowing blue stretched beyond their room, penetrating the walls and stalking shapes through the dark. He held the image in his mind for a minute before he dropped his focus and let the blueprint recede when his body started heating up.

He kept his eyes closed and breathing steady, careful not to let the burning rod slip out of its socket.

He thought back to a few hours ago, to the various trinkets and knickknacks they had laid over his bed, and chose one. The small marble came to his mind; a round piece of purple-colored glass, its surface blurred and marred by tiny, almost imperceptible scratches and depressions.

He extended a palm before him.

Faint, shimmering light lifted off the skin of his hand as he sharpened the image in his mind. The light took form in a glowing ball of magical energy before settling into the physical replica of the item.

He opened his eyes and stared at the projection. He rolled the ball between his index and his thumb, all the while focusing on its internal structure. Emiya nodded. The outside was a perfect imitation, an identic cover for the hollowness within and produced through visual memory alone.

He directed his magic and channeled his energy through the small trinket, forcing his filtered Od through the gaps and spaces that he grasped, and reinforcing the hollow marble to its limit.

The change was there, although his naked eyes could barely see it. The skin of his fingers stung, straining against the hardened glass that faintly shimmered.

He pushed more of his prana into the marble and reinforced it beyond the norm. The glass vibrated and throbbed in his grip, threatening to burst. He willed it away and the reinforcement receded, ebbing away in motes of light along with the projection.

He let the burning rod slowly slide up and out of his nerves, and shut off the flow of Od.

He closed his fist, then relaxed his grip and slackened his fingers. He repeated the move alongside a suite of breathing exercises and worked out the numbness that had crept up his back.

Structural Grasp, Projection, and Reinforcement. The core mysteries available to Emiya Shirou. He had been able to practice them again ever since he had managed to open an artificial circuit and filter his Od through it – around a week or so ago. His training was nothing out of the ordinary; simply a series of mental and magical exercises through which he conditioned his body to the flow of magic.

He had tried to access Unlimited Blade Works as well, but so far, his ventures had all ended in failure. Even simply thinking of his reality marble was enough to cause minor headaches that rose in intensity the further he probed.

His fingers tightened when he balled a fist and frowned.

The veil obscuring his soul was still there, although he had yet to fully grasp its origin and intent. Even analyzing his body through magic had yielded no results, and the string of inconclusive attempts was starting to weigh on his patience.

He let out a breath and rubbed his temple.

Still, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. If there was one thing at which he excelled, it was perseverance.

Emiya let his arms down onto his lap and closed his eyes.

He opened his lips and released a slow trickle of air.

He went through the process of forging another circuit, and he skidded through the steps with experienced ease.

"I am the bone of my sword."

He waited for several seconds – minutes, even, but nothing. Not even an echo – a reverberation of his inner self – could be perceived.

 _Failure, again._ Trying to invoke his reality marble in his diminished state was a death wish. Yet, so far, over the last seven nights, he hadn't even witnessed the shadow of a success, or the phantom of the pain he knew would be his first indicator of progress.

Emiya let out an exasperated breath. He let his magic circuit fade away before crossing his arms.

What was he missing? What was the _thing_ that kept him from realizing his true potential that even he, with his specialized magic, couldn't grasp?

He had explored both his body and what recesses of his mind he could understand over the past days, and that endeavor had been fruitless. Perhaps there was something he was omitting. Something that could affect his magic circuits and reality marble, not from _within_ , but from _without_.

His hand cradled his chin as he thought about it. Up until now, he hadn't really tried to interact with the spiritual and magical facet of Tatooine. Back on earth, the ambient mana had been so thin it was almost imperceptible, save for the highly attuned and the gifted. Even those few he had met and who could feel it were practically incapable of harnessing the latent energy of the Earth through their own bodies, often resorting to special artifacts to access and use _Mana_.

On Tatooine, however, things seemed different. _Very_ different. His nose had picked onto the dusty, earthy scent of the planet rather early on, and that had nothing to do with the sand carried through the wind. Even now, when he scrunched his nose and sniffed the air, he could feel it.

Tatooine was rich in mana, teeming with an energy he could not understand.

And that richness left him perplexed.

Beneath the light, dusty smell of the air, was something far thicker. A feeling of… feral power and dark, broiling emotions. It was like smelling the air of a deep, icy cave, whose darkness concealed the looming sketch of an eldritch enormity that tugged at his sleeve and beckoned him deeper.

It had left him apprehensive the first time he had sensed it, and it still did. He had avoided it to the best of his abilities, lacking any serious means to study it. But now, with what headway he had made into his recovery, he felt as if he could grasp some of its fluttering threads.

And if that was the reason why his reality marble remained inaccessible, he needed to figure it out. If venturing into the unknown was the means to his goal, he would go in with swords bared.

Emiya relaxed once more and regulated his breathing until his heartbeat slowed. He forged another circuit then reached outwards, letting his decades of experience and intuition guide his senses as he felt for the ambient energy.

What felt like hours and several unsuccessful probes later, something nudged his mind – like a coarse scent seeping through a small gap in the wall and tickling his nose. He attuned his perception to it and sensed raw, undiluted power, flowing into and through his surroundings, permeating the air and somehow imbuing everything around him with its unmistakable print, from the walls to the furniture, and even Aola sleeping calmly on her bed, completely oblivious to the aura floating around and through her.

Emiya frowned.

This was too easy. He had expected it to be much harder, to take literal days, perhaps even weeks before his survey bore any fruits. Yet, here he was, feeling the flow of energy around him and witnessing it as if it were the simplest thing to achieve.

One more mystery to heap onto the pile.

He filed his distractions away and focused further, squeezing his nostrils as he honed his sense of smell and sniffed the air.

That overpowering scent was there, easily distinguishable from the staleness of the room and the soft fragrance of cheap soap that wafted off his skin and Aola's.

He focused on it and shut off the rest of his senses, until the pervading darkness and overpowering tang were all he could perceive.

He reached out with his figurative hand, wading through the thick blanket of darkness for what felt like hours until he felt something tug back, shyly, tentatively, as if testing him with slow, deliberate brushes.

He pushed further, and the presence shied away. He continued, unabashed, penetrating the shadows with his fingers until something latched onto his arm.

Emiya froze.

Whatever grabbed him did not.

A distorted wraith emerged from the shadows and inched closer, creeping over his skin and shedding its twilight shroud all around him.

He tried to step back, but the wraith followed. Soon, he found himself enveloped in its cocoon, trapped from all sides in its pernicious tendrils.

"What are you?" Emiya whispered through a clenched jaw.

The blackness shuddered, squirming against his arm like a woman in the throes of pleasure. It settled back after what felt like a second, and slowly stalked its way up his side.

He felt the touch of something soft on his ear, its contact both hot and cold, gentle yet firm.

It murmured something, cooing in a soft melodious voice that left him tantalized.

The darkness coiled around him, hugging the rest of his body in a cloak of gloom.

The voice whispered again, this time more forceful and somber, promising perverse fulfillment and answers to his questions.

Emiya struggled, and the veil around him tightened with his effort. He took a deep, sudden breath and focused on the sheets beneath his physical body and the hard stone pressing against his back.

A silent limb dragged itself around his throat, teasing his skin with the razor ends of invisible blades.

Emiya wheezed and his arms struggled in their shackles.

He pictured the flat of a giant blade gleaming like silver and large like a mountain, gouging away the darkness before it barreled into his side.

His body jerked away and he fell against the mattress.

His hand immediately went to his head as he gritted his teeth against the sudden pain that skewered him from within, and cleaved through his mind. The heated rod in his backbone carved its way through his nerves and sent him down a spiral of sizzling agony.

He could still hear that voice, seductive and insidious in its timbre, cajoling him into letting the darkness take over.

He pushed back against it and let out a single groan, fingers tightening on his scalp.

"E-Em—a?" Someone howled, their face and tone obscured by the veil of benumbing ache.

Something grabbed his shoulders and shook him. The act added to his pain and he tried to push whoever held him away, but his grip was weak and unfocused – his cramped fingers throbbing and refusing to obey.

More sounds entered his ears, though he couldn't make out any words. His mind was a mess of whites and blacks and snowy statics and the pain… it dwarfed everything else.

Dark crimson superseded black as the overpowering presence became even stronger, and his feet dug into the mattress.

A voice spoke to him, filling his ears with a cacophony of noises and grating shrieks. Through the haze, he felt a pair of small limbs tighten around him in a weak, heaving embrace.

He let himself relax into the warmth as he battled the darkness and channeled his focus, and the agony receded and made way for paralyzing numbness after what felt like an eternity.

He struggled to open his eyes and caught a glimpse of blue and purple when the light of the ceiling lamp illuminated his blurred vision.

Aola stared down at him with something akin to confusion and concern. Her lips moved, yet the words blurred through the static.

She held him close for an indiscernible amount of time, before the numbness subsided and his chaos of a mind became a slightly more organized jumble.

Something wet and warm touched his cheek and his finger came up to brush it.

Aola immediately latched onto the digit, "Are you okay?!"

Emiya closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"I'm… fine." He slurred as he struggled to sit up and extricated himself out of the girl's embrace.

She let him go hesitantly, her fingers barely an inch from his shoulder. He took a moment to massage his temples and breathe out the sickening tang that filled his nose. He rolled his tongue in his mouth and let out a sigh when no salty taste assaulted his buds.

When he felt good enough to think through the mess in his head, he turned to Aola.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, not even an arm's length away, hugging her hands to her chest and staring at him with wide, tear-rimmed eyes.

"You're not okay…" She said. She inched closer and brushed the sleeve of her tunic under his nose.

The gray fabric came away smudged in red. The twi'lek visibly flinched at the sight.

Emiya wiped his nose and stared at his stained fingers. _Blood._

"What's going on…" Aola said through the tears trailing down her cheeks. "Are you sick? D-Do you need a—

"I'm fine, Aola. Really." Emiya wiped his bloodstained hand on the bottom of his tunic, then gripped both of her shoulders. "It's the exertion from this morning. I'm just tired; I should be fine after a good night's rest."

Aola sniffled and tried to dam the flow of tears with her sleeves. Some of his blood stained her cheek and she ignored it. "But you were thrashing! It's like you were going through a fit or—

"Must have been a nightmare." Emiya shrugged.

When his words failed to reassure her, he let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. If there was one thing that had always left him clueless, it was dealing with sobbing children.

"Look," He lifted her chin and stared deep into her teary eyes, "I was asleep, I had a nightmare, and through the shock, my nose bled a bit from the exhaustion." He pointed to his nose, now dry and only covered in faint traces of drying blood, "See? There is nothing to worry about."

The girl opened her lips but no words came out. After several seconds, she let her head hang and nodded.

"Why don't you go and wash yourself up? " Emiya gave her a small smile and rubbed her shoulder, "You can leave your soiled tunic in the bathroom; I'll clean it up tomorrow."

Aola raised her head with a small frown, "You… aren't going to die, right?"

Emiya tilted his head and stroked his chin. "What was it again? Ah, yes. Bumblefluff."

The girl meekly punched his arm with a pout.

"No," he said, "I think it'll take more than a nosebleed to bring me down."

The frown on her face made way for a small smile. "Promise?"

Emiya nodded, "Promise."

The girl leaned forward and locked him in a tight hug. He sighed and rubbed her back, careful to avoid her lekkus.

She let out a small giggle when she noticed.

"Go on," Emiya said, gently pushing the girl off and shooing her away.

Aola wiped the rest of her tears and nodded. She took to her feet and rummaged a clean shirt from her bag before skittering off to the bathroom. She peered at him one last time through the frame before closing the door behind her.

Emiya eased out a breath and rested his back against the wall. He wiped his nose again, for good measure, and his fingers came away dry.

His head still throbbed from phantom pains, and his back felt like a burning iron had been pressed against it. "What an experience…" He hissed while working his jaw.

"Commentary: An experience, indeed. I think you've managed to wake up half the building."

He turned to the droid sitting by the window and crossed his arms.

"How long—

"Answer: Two long hours have gone by since your body temperature started wildly fluctuating."

"…That long?" Emiya frowned. He hadn't even felt the time pass.

"Query: I have no idea what you were up to, Master, and it is not my place to question, but I will do it anyway," HK's eyes shone bright orange, "What in the blazes of the holy furnace were you up to?"

Emiya stared at the droid in silence. He knew it wasn't the first time HK had noticed the effects of his magic.

"I have no idea," Emiya bluffed, though the answer held a bit of truth, "It's the first time something like this has happened."

"Statement: Really, Master? You think you can fool my sensors?" the droid huffed, "Fine. It's not like I care. I'll let the blue meatbag handle your fits by herself the next time around."

"There won't be a next time," Emiya assured, "Did something happen with Aola?"

"Answer: The meatbag was about to drag you down bodily to the lobby and badger the owner into fetching a med droid. It goes without saying, I put an end to her ridiculous plans." HK thrummed, "Ignoring the fact that such an action would have reduced our meager finances to mere bits and scraps, I was also constantly monitoring your vitals. If your situation had actually gone critical, I would have rolled myself down to the lobby and zapped the owner into submission until he had you cared for and treated. Free of charge and with his compliments, of course."

Emiya shook his head with a small smirk, "I had no idea you cared so much."

"Statement: …I think it is time you went to sleep. Have a good night, oh preposterous master of mine."

Emiya waved his hand and let out a groan when the motion sent him a few jolts of pain, and the droid eventually went back to rest after a few seconds.

He stared down at his hand, at the traces of red streaked across it, and cursed under his breath. He could still hear those faint whispers; insidious and deceptive in their very tone. The contact had taken him by surprise, and his focus had wilted enough for his circuit to riot and send him into the throes of old and familiar pain. His body had _not_ been ready, even if his mind was accustomed to the strain. He'd need to work on that.

Emiya closed his eyes and shook his arm.

The darkness around him felt heavy and pregnant, as if concealing the shadows of a wicked beast. It somewhat reminded him of something from the past, something old and powerful, whose corrupted and blackened minions he had fought and struggled against. The thought had him clench his jaw as a bead of sweat caressed the length of his cheek and his hand closed in a hard fist.

What, or _who_ was that presence that had had him trapped? And why had it felt so familiar?

Emiya let out a heavy sigh and reached for his pillow—

A small, purple light sparked when the tips of his fingers touched the fabric and his hand jerked away.

He stared at the ends of his digits and rubbed the skin with his other hand. There was nothing there, except for the faint traces of pain and the fleeting feeling of something electrical jolting through his skin.

He turned to his pillow with a raised eyebrow and prodded it a few times. Nothing happened.

It must have been the accumulated static, he figured. Or was it something else? Perhaps an aftermath of his tangle with the unknown? Whatever it was, he tried to feel for it, before ultimately deciding to leave it for the morning when his probes proved useless.

With a shrug, Emiya laid himself on his back and rested his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes and worked his lungs, trying to relax.

His fingers brushed against the red stain on his tunic, and he considered taking a trip to the bathroom, but his back wouldn't comply, and his legs were still slightly shaking from the earlier strain.

Emiya pressed further into his pillow and let out a small yawn.

Within a few minutes, his muscles loosened up and sleepiness took over.

 _What a day…_

* * *

Red lips eased into a level line when she dropped her smile and leaned back against her seat.

The dark leather creaked as it welcomed her weight, and her black hair cascaded over her shoulder while her slender fingers sifted through the locks.

She flicked her tongue and licked the drop of liquor on her lip, eyes narrowing into slits as she tasted the bittersweet liquid and faced the ceiling.

The silvers and yellows of the moons shone through the window on her side and splayed over the blues and blacks of the lonely cabin. The eerie colors brought her respite and she let out a sigh as she crossed her legs and flattened the wrinkles on her uniform.

"Sneaky little thing…" she whispered.

To think that _it_ would poke the tip of its tail and wag it right before her eyes. She could still feel the tenacity– the strength behind that presence; young and full of life, of potential that begged to be unraveled.

It had taken her by surprise when she had felt _it,_ swimming around in the pools of the Dark Side and probing forces that were way beyond its understanding _._ She hadn't expected it to make the first move, and she certainly hadn't expected it to be so close, but lo and behold, the little rat was at an arm's reach away, waiting only to be plucked and subjected to her.

She shook her head and ran a hand over her black-silked thigh with a smile that betrayed all of her pleasure.

There had been a… _force_ , there, in its itty-bitty limbs that had called to her; captivated and ensnared her in its trap.

She tightened her fist over the armrest, " _I_ am the huntress, little one, and _you_ are only prey."

She slackened her fingers and stared at her open palm. She pictured _it_ in her grasp, squirming and straining against her hold, struggling in a vain attempt to escape its coming fate.

 _It_ was hers for the taking. A beautiful little treat wrapped up nicely and waiting only for her favor to be dispensed.

The woman licked her lips. It would be a challenge, to be sure, but she would never squander the opportunity.

She would claw her way through the sands of Tatooine if she had to, but _it_ would be _hers_.

"Pilot, give me an E.T.A." She picked up a flute of violet liquid and cradled it between her fingers.

A voice crackled through the intercom, "Fifteen minutes to the tower, Director."

She let out a single sigh then peered through the window. Dunes of sand and monuments of rock and crust zoomed past, quickly replaced by more of the same. The sight alone was enough to crumple her features into a small frown.

Her fingers danced and the glass swayed, the liquid inside sloshing with the motions. Dark orbs stared back when she glanced down at her own rippling reflection and her frown disappeared.

"Soon…" she whispered, the tip of her index circling the rim of the glass. Weeks, already, she had spent on this parched rock, shuttling away from one settlement to the next and stretching her barbed strings into a fine web.

She would have favored a more… _direct_ approach, had she had the means, but alas, _they_ had cautioned patience and deception, and she could only oblige.

"Director, you have a transmission from HQ," the pilot said.

"Patch it through," she ordered, and a faint light descended from a small projector fused to the ceiling.

"Director Cran, I take it?" said a voice on the other end, once the image settled and the features of a young man stared back at her.

Her eyes narrowed, "And who might you be?"

"Advisor Colan Ilvan, Arkanis Sectorial Directorate."

The man had a pair of spectacles resting in front of his eyes, and she barely refrained from scoffing. That one would favor such primitive fashion accessories, in lieu of proper sight augmentation was something she could only expect to find in the decadent Republic.

Still, she straightened her back, "I trust you have a reason to call me so late at night."

"Of course," the man said as he fingered his glasses, "We have been trying to reach you for days. There are some… concerns that we would like to address."

"Concerns?" she raised an eyebrow, "go ahead."

The man nodded before producing a small datapad and flourishing his fingers over the screen, "Evayn Cran, former secretary and right-hand of director Uvoc Masatin. You've been working under his tutelage for close to a decade, and have recently been named as interim manager in the wake of the director's… yet unresolved disappearance."

The woman narrowed her eyes and squeezed the armrest, "Uvoc Masatin has resigned from his position and named me his successor. I believe he has sent you the necessary files."

"He has," the man responded with a tilt of his head, "and the documents are all in order."

The director glared, "you are wasting my time, advisor."

"I simply wish to ascertain a few details, director Cran. We both have nothing but the corporation's best interests in mind," he pushed up his glasses and smiled, "director Masatin has been in charge of the Hollowport sector for years. We find his decision to leave the leadership in your… young and untrained hands questionable and rushed."

The woman waved her hand in dismissal, "what goes on through the good director's head eludes me, Advisor Ilvan. I am as baffled as you are. If you wish to know more, I suggest you find the man and question him yourself."

"That would be the issue, director Cran. We have been unable to locate him. As far as anyone knows, Uvoc Masatin has completely vanished off our scanners."

"And that should be your problem, advisor, not mine," she said, "I trust the Sectorial Directorate can dispatch its own investigators and shed light onto the issue."

The advisor sighed and strummed a single finger on the rim of his datapad, "The process takes time, miss Cran. We were hoping you would have a lead we could trace."

"Entertain my curiosity, advisor," she slightly leaning forward and crossed her fingers over her knee, "Why do you care so much to find Masatin? The man was nearing his sixties, I'd wager he went on some flight of fancy with a young girl eager to spend his fortunes away."

"A man such as Masatin cannot simply up and leave his position, director," the advisor said, "there are regulations; procedures that need to be followed."

"Let me guess," the woman shook her head with a smirk, "You fear he might have taken some of the corporation's secrets and sold them off to the nearest broker?"

The advisor stared back in stern silence.

"A gullible idiot I am not, mister Ilvan," she waved her hand, "I may only be director by interim, but I know the serpentine ways of the trade. I have dealt with my own share of cutthroats and backstabbers, some of which I considered _family_." And she had given them the same treatment she dispensed on her worst enemies; a blade across the spine and a trip to a jurgoran's den. "Still, I will dispatch my men and have them question the locals. If Masatin was enough of a fool to leave footprints in the sand, we _will_ find him."

Except no one would. She had made sure of it. Uvoc Masatin was but ashes scattered to the wind.

"…The directorate expects nothing less," the advisor said, "perhaps once this unfortunate affair has met a favorable resolution, the board might be encouraged into considering you for a permanent position."

She gave him a long and silent stare. Inside, she huffed. She had no interest in sieging amongst the graying and petty officers of the corporation.

She lifted her glass and took a sip of the liquor, "will that be all?"

The man shook his head, "I am afraid we still require more of your time," he adjusted his glasses before continuing, "It has come to our attention that the Tatoo System has come under a lockdown, and your name pops up as the main lead behind the move. Is there anything the board should be made aware of?"

She heaved her shoulders, "Nothing that would require the directorate's attention. We are dealing with a virulent band of smugglers and pirates. The issue should be resolved within a few weeks."

"And you took it upon yourself to lock the system without going through the proper chain?"

"It was either that or risk endangering Czerka's interests. I trust you understand."

The projected man narrowed his eyes, "have the other corporate representatives agreed to this?"

"The lockdown wouldn't have passed, otherwise. The decision was unanimous."

"And you convinced them to comply?"

"I know how to be… _persuasive_ ," she said with a flourish.

The man shook his head, "even with the representatives' approval, such a move could be seen as an infringement on galactic regulations."

"What regulations?" she scoffed, "the Republic is too busy trying to get back on its legs to care for a system on the outer fringes. Or is it the Hutts, of all things? Are you afraid those worms could threaten the company's operations?"

The man glared long and hard before letting out a sigh, "We would ask that you refrain from taking such bold moves in the future. This could possibly attract the ire of other companies and mire our operations in other sectors."

The woman shrugged, "If that will put the directorate at ease, then so be it."

"Very well. I will pass on my reports to the board." He said.

The director waved her hand and took a sip of her drink.

"Onto the final issue…" the advisor took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He produced a small cloth and wiped the lenses before laying them back over the bridge of his nose. "What follows is of the utmost importance. The careers of many, as well as Czerka's good standing with the Republic depend on what I am about to share. I expect your absolute attention."

The woman raised a single brow before she lowered her drink and rested her arms on her lap, "I am all ears."

The man's eyes darted over his screen then turned back to her, "An artifact has been found, not far from the Hollowport outpost. The object couldn't be dated, and its origins are unknown. The team in charge of the excavation has sent us a full report, and one should be waiting in your office, as well. In short, they don't know what the object is and have no idea what to do with it."

"And you want me to piece the puzzle together?"

"That would be redundant," he waved his hand in dismissal, "We've sent the details to our… friends in the republic, and one organization in particular has shown great interest in the object. One of theirs will be visiting Tatooine shortly in order to retrieve it."

The director narrowed her eyes. How far had she fallen, that she'd end up as some middleman for a meddling corporation and their republic friends? "I take it you want me to settle the deal… how much will it cost them?"

"Nothing," he crossed his fingers before him, "They are to receive the artifact completely free of charge. It is meant to be a sign of goodwill from the corporation."

She raised an eyebrow, "Czerka doing charity work. Who could have thought the day would come?"

"This is a matter of great import, miss Cran," the man assured, "The Republic is on its knees. The last war has left many worlds, both from the core and the colonies, in dire need of reconstruction and protection. Unfortunately, Czerka is _not_ the only company out there with its eyes locked on the prize. In order to bolster our standing with the Republic, this… donation must be concluded in the best of terms."

The director waved her hand and let out a sigh, "So I am to babysit this artifact and the envoys who will be coming to fetch it?"

"Absolutely," He nodded, "let them have the item, and treat them like royalty. As far as Czerka and The Republic are concerned, they might as well be. Once the deal is concluded, and The Republic satisfied, the corporation shall award you a… sizable compensation."

She threw her hand in the air, "And who exactly are these marquee envoys?"

The man readjusted his glasses and tilted his head, "Grand Master Nomi Sunrider and her padawan, of the Jedi Order."

She froze.

Oh, how tantalizingly cruel of the Force. To think they would cross paths so soon, that they would be the ones to step into her turf and sift their meddling hands through her finely threaded ploys.

"Director Cran?"

She shook her head and tightened her grip on the armrest, "What… what artifact are they coming for? Why would the _Grand Master_ of the order themselves come to such a remote corner of the galaxy?"

The man lowered his eyes to his datapad, "a… Holocron, it seems."

She shook her head once, then a second time, and her hair showered over half of her face when she shook it a third time. Her arm brushed against the drink beside her, and the liquid splashed a few drops on her pristine uniform.

Was the Force working against her? Was this all one of _his_ ploys, to seize the prize and keep it for _himself?_ Curse him to the tombs of Korriban!

"Director Cran? Is everything in order?"

"I'm…" She shook her head a fourth time and ran a shaking hand through her hair before sitting straight. "I just had a… lapse. It seems the exhaustion from the last few days is catching up on me."

The advisor nodded, "I suggest you take some rest before the meeting. Our guests should arrive within the week. That only leaves you a few days to secure the artifact and have it ready. I trust you understand the importance of this exchange?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, you dolt!" she glared, "I know _exactly_ what needs to be done..."

The man raised an eyebrow and coughed into his hand, "very well. Further details will be sent to your personal terminal. Do the corporation proud and you shall not regret it."

The blue image distorted before the light retracted back to the ceiling.

The director lifted her glass and held it between her fingers.

Yellow clouded her vision and she sent the flute careening through the air before it crashed against the wall.

Weeks. Weeks she had spent setting her plan and stretching her web, only for the Jedi to complicate everything. Couldn't they have stayed in their cozy little fortress, watching the clouds drift and the fish splash over the rivers of Ossus?

Now her plan rested on a thin line, and she would have to limit her moves lest the pesky little peace-lovers put a dent in her carefully crafted scheme.

She scowled. Her jaw tightened and the faint scent of ozone permeated the cabin. Sparks of energy threatened to course through the air and imbue the walls when her anger flared.

Her tooth pricked her lip and red trickled down her chin.

She closed her eyes and let her muscles relax when gray and brown came to her mind. She licked the blood off her skin and savored the salty, coarse taste of it.

First, she would need to secure _it_. There was no way she'd let the Jedi take her prize away. She would kill it if she had to, and she would kill the Jedi as well if _its_ existence came to light.

The woman let a feral grin stretch across her crimson lips.

"Soon, little one," She cooed, "very soon..."

* * *

The haunting hues of purples and reds were still there, clawing and persistent, latching onto her consciousness, unrelenting.

She had thought it all to have become a distant memory, buried under new ones, happier ones, memories filled with the warmth of her new friendship and the sense of belonging and family she had attached to it. She had been happy for a few weeks, drying her tears on her sleeves and smiling in the face of her new friend.

But it couldn't have lasted, could it? This newfound happiness was bound to hurt her as well, wasn't it?

She wasn't stupid. She knew how fragile and weak a life was. She had seen many die or disappear beyond the dunes, adults and children alike, too weak or scared to fend off the threats of the beast-addled desert.

Even those who organized themselves and formed communities weren't immune to it. She should know, she had seen it firsthand; the fire blazing through the stone and steel that lined the walls, screams that brought forth visions of nightmare, and splashes of something warm and thick across her face and limbs when her father had stood before those raiders…

Her nails dug into cloth when her fingers crumpled the fabric over her heart. She angled her face towards the floor and wiped the tears that had started to form.

She brought her hand before her eyes and stared at the blue of her skin. Visions of red streaked across her palm filled her mind, and her breath hitched.

She wasn't gonna lose someone again, was she? Hadn't she already lost enough? Had she been that bad of a child to deserve so much heart-squeezing pain?

"Aola?"

She slowly turned towards him, standing one foot ahead and looking over his shoulder as he ran a card over a scanner and locked the door to their room.

She shook her head and tried to smile, "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" he asked and turned to face her fully, "You've had a nightmare again, haven't you?"

Her ghost of a smile dropped, and her grip tightened over her heart. She shook her head weakly.

"Don't deny it," he stepped closer and laid his hand on her shoulder, "You saw it again, didn't you?"

Aola stilled and her eyes bore into his. Images flashed in front of her face, of fire, blood and the sickening stench of sizzling flesh. She felt something rising from her stomach and she leaned over, one hand cupping her mouth while the other squeezed her stomach.

The boy called her name and stepped closer. He grabbed her shoulder and rubbed her back, "It's okay, just relax. Take a deep breath…"

Aola clenched her eyes shut and forced the bile down, pricking her lip with her tooth when she bit into her own flesh.

She hated this. How could she not? It made her feel weak and hopeless, and that terrified her. She felt the pit in her stomach grow larger, and her hand tightened over her belly.

His hand kept on caressing her back and the gesture brought her comfort. After a few minutes, she stood back and licked the drop of blood on her lip.

"I'm okay," she said, trying her best to smile despite the horrible taste in her mouth.

Emiya cocked his head and perked a brow, "I don't think you should be going out today."

"No!" She burst out, her voice hoarse and cracking, "I-I'm fine… I just…"

How could she leave him alone after what happened the night before? She'd never abandon a friend, no matter how bad her head hurt or her chest ached.

Emiya shook his head. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Aola froze, "What are—

He laid the back of his hand against her forehead and frowned, "I'm not an expert on twi'lek biology, but I think you're coming down with a fever."

Aola slapped his hand away and stepped back, "I'm not!" she said, "I'm not sick, and even if I was, I wouldn't stay here!"

"Aola," he sighed, "it's for your own good."

"I don't care!" she heaved.

"Calm down," he said, clamping a hand over her shoulder, "I believe you, just… calm down."

She had half a mind to brush his hand away but decided against it. She felt horrible for yelling at him, already, but she couldn't stop herself. Something at the back of her head was gnawing on her nerves, and it made her feel prickly.

"I'm…" her brows furrowed as her hand found purchase on a nearby wall. "I don't want to stay here," she said, "I don't want to be alone… not now."

The boy nodded and gently nudged her arm, "I understand. Let's get you something to eat, then, alright?"

Aola smiled. She wasn't sure she was all that hungry, but she wouldn't say no to a fresh drink. She needed something to wash away the tang in her mouth.

She pushed herself off the wall, leaning against her friend for support until she felt good enough to walk on her own.

They marched down the corridor and took the stairs to the floor below, where the manager was busy stabbing his fingers into his big, round nose and reading something off a datapad in his hands. The lobby was crowded, and the lights of the ceiling were off, leaving only the sunlight seeping through the narrow windows to illuminate the large room.

The buzz of conversation and boisterous laughter filled her ears as they stepped away from the reception and approached the cantina at the back.

It hadn't been very crowded yesterday, when they had first come inside, but today, she didn't think she could swing a porg in the room without hitting someone.

People of every species and size sat at long and small tables pushed up against the walls or spread across the cantina. There was a bar at the center, ring-shaped and manned by two aliens serving the various customers that animated the premise.

"That's a lot of people…" Her friend commented.

Aola frowned as she rubbed her lekkus. She didn't like crowded places. All those people – aliens for the most part, even to her – were scary and looked ready to spring at the first sign of conflict.

Keep your head down and out of their way, her father used to say.

Aola lowered her head and gripped her hood with both hands. She glanced at her friend standing by her side, eyebrow raised as his eyes traveled across the lengths of the cantina.

"I'm not that hungry," she said, "I think we should—

"Nonsense," the boy said, shaking his head, "We won't last for long if we don't get something to eat."

"But—

"Come on," he said, tugging at her sleeve as he stepped forward, "Let's take a seat before all the tables are taken."

Aola acquiesced, following behind him as they made their way through the packed room. She didn't want to ruin his enthusiasm. That's what good friends did, wasn't it? Help each other out and be there for one another…

They passed by a few tables, some of which occupied by the largest and most dangerous-looking people Aola had ever seen.

Some green-skinned aliens with big, gloomy eyes waved their blasters around as they prattled on, feet splayed on their table and glasses of weird-looking juice dancing in their scaly palms.

Aola gripped her hood tighter and averted her eyes. She could hear her heart pounding, somehow louder than the hustle of the crowded cantina, filled with the loud cries and laughter of the patrons whose words and gazes she'd sooner forget.

They chose a small table by the corner, away from the hustle. Aola took the seat farthest away from any prying eyes and huddled herself in a corner. Her friend took the seat opposite of her, with a sideways view of the cantina.

"Observation: Are you sure it is prudent to be here, Master?" HK said, once the boy had dropped him on the table.

Aola wondered why the droid had kept silent the entire morning. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so silent and docile. Not that she minded, of course.

"We're here out of necessity, not choice," Emiya said, arms crossed as he looked around him, "Dangerous or not, we need food. Besides, look around you," he nodded towards the guards standing around the cantina, "I doubt anyone would try their luck in these conditions."

"Commentary: Still, I advise caution. You can never trust a meatbag. Oh, look. That one guard has just dropped his blaster."

Aola turned to the guard when the sound of clattering steel reached her ears, and her eyes widened at the sight of the alien. His shoulders were drooped and his head was bobbing up and down. It wasn't until another guard came up to him and shook him up that the alien woke up and resumed his duty.

Aola shook her head and leaned against her seat. She put a hand over her stomach and scrunched her nose when the smell of grilled foods and mixed drinks became pervasive. She had been so hungry the night before, but now, all she could think about was getting out of the cantina and into the open air.

"Hungry?"

She turned to her friend. She couldn't tell him that, could she? He was willing to waste some of their money just so they could get something nice to eat, even if she wasn't all that hungry anymore.

Aola averted her eyes and gave him a nod.

Her gaze scanned the crowds and stopped on a familiar silhouette moving between the tables and ferrying plates.

"Isn't that…" She pointed a small finger towards the figure.

The boy followed her gaze and nodded.

It was the young woman they had met yesterday, the one who had led them to their room. Aola wasn't sure what to think of her. She wondered how the girl could be working here, in front of all those people without fearing for her life. Weren't young togrutas, too, hunted by slavers?

The girl caught her gaze when she turned in their direction and, after a second of hesitation, waved her hand.

Aola's lips curled into a faint smile as she raised her hand and waved back.

The togruta went back to work and, after a while, came over with an empty tray in her hands and a warm look on her face. "Hey there."

Both Aola and her friend nodded at the newcomer. She didn't know her at all, but the pleasant look on her face told her she could be trusted. If just a little.

"I'm not sure if you remember us," the boy said, "We rented a room yesterday."

"Room sixteen," the togruta nodded, leaning slightly over the table, "Two kids and some sort of droid. That's not exactly a common sight around here."

Aola agreed. They should have kept to their rations and avoided these sorts of scary places. It was just food, anyway. Couldn't they have bought something off the market instead? Maybe her friend didn't know…

The boy shrugged, "Trust me, I'd rather be elsewhere. The name's Emiya, by the way, and this is Aola."

The twi'lek waved when the young woman turned, "Hi."

"Hey sweetie," the waitress gestured back, "I'm Moeni."

Aola smiled. The togruta's eyes lingered on her face before moving to her neck, tracing the contours of her wrapped lekku. Aola pulled at the flaps of her cloak.

"This little scrap ball here is HK," Emiya said.

"Commentary: Do you expect me to greet a meatbag, Master?"

"Be nice," He said, giving him a tap.

"Greeting: Hello, meatbag. I suggest you don't linger too long or you might find yourself unconciou—

His hull rattled on the table when Emiya gave him some applied punishment.

"He's a strange one," Moeni said, a hand on her hip as she smiled at the droid.

"I'm afraid he can't be disciplined," Emiya shrugged.

"Commentary: Oh, but I am very disciplined, Master. I have yet to zap a meatbag, and trust me, the desire is there."

Aola shook her head. She wished HK could be a little bit more like the droids they had had back at the farm.

"Is it always this crowded?" Emiya asked.

"Crowded?" Moeni said, "Today is supposed to be a calm day."

Emiya cocked an eyebrow, "Dare I ask what a busy day looks like?"

"You'd be lucky to find a spot on the floor," The togruta chuckled and waved her hand, "People come from all over the settlement to eat here. The food is that good."

"Is that so?" The boy nodded, "I guess we'll have to give it a try, don't we?" he said and turned to Aola.

The twi'lek nodded.

"What can I get you, then?" Moeni asked.

"I have no idea," Emiya shrugged, "Anything you can recommend?"

The togruta smiled, "I'm guessing you're not exactly high on creds?"

"It's that obvious?" He quipped.

"Well…" the togruta looked away and held the empty tray to her chest.

Emiya shrugged, "We'd like something cheap and filling."

The young woman put a finger to her chin, "There's the breakfast special. It's not exactly the cheapest, but it's the best value for your credits."

"We're not exactly from here, Moeni," he said, "I'm hoping this _breakfast special_ isn't some pot of writhing tentacles?"

The togruta giggled, and Aola shook her head in horror, "We have that, too, if you want."

"No thank you," The boy refused and held an adamant hand, "I'd sooner eat sand."

"I'm sure we could arrange that."

Emiya gave her a look, and Aola giggled. She was liking the togruta already.

"As long as it's edible, we'll have the special. How much is it?"

"For you both?" Moeni tilted her head and leaned closer, "That'll be ten creds."

Aola gasped. Why was it so expensive?! It was almost the cost of a single night's rent!

"That's a bit expensive," Emiya remarked.

"I'm sorry," the togruta said, "But the prices are… well, the owner has a tendency for driving prices up on a whim. Not even a week ago, the same meal wouldn't have cost half that much."

Emiya frowned, "Did something happen?"

"Well, the—

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud voice coming from the bar. It somehow made its way to their corner despite the unruly bustle of the cantina.

"Sorry, I'd love to talk more, but..." Moeni smiled in apology and held the platter against her belly.

"I understand," Emiya said, "We'll take the breakfast special."

The togruta nodded and stepped away in a hurry, her dress fluttering in her wake.

Aola dropped her hands on her lap and leaned against her seat. Moeni looked nice enough. Maybe they could become friends?

Not that she was particularly good at making friends, what with her growing up in a small village where most people were either too old or too young to play with her. She wasn't even sure how to go about befriending her…

She turned to her friend, frowned, then turned back to her lap.

Maybe she could…

Aola groaned. She wasn't sure trying to tackle Moeni to the floor would make for a good introduction.

She heard her friend sigh. He was staring at his palm, rubbing his fingers together with such intensity, Aola thought he was trying to brush his own skin off.

"Query: Something the matter, Master?"

"I don't know what to think," Emiya shook his hand before reaching over to rest his fingers over the droid, "Doesn't Hollowport seem strange to you?"

"Answer: All meatbag settlements look the same to me, Master."

Emiya narrowed his eyes, "I'm not asking for your biased opinion. Don't you think something is amiss? Haven't you sensed anything out of the ordinary?"

Aola turned to him and tilted her head, "What do you mean?"

"Remember when we first came into the settlement?" he asked.

Aola put a finger to her chin, "You mean when we passed the gates?"

Emiya nodded, "Did you notice the lack of security?"

Aola furrowed her brows in thought. She hadn't really noticed anything strange. It wasn't too different from when she had used to come with her father, except, maybe, the fact that they hadn't asked them for any sort of identification chip. Was it really all that strange?

"Observation: Czerka isn't exactly known for its scrutiny as far as its outer-rim operations are concerned, Master."

"You might be right," The boy shrugged, "Still, call it intuition or paranoia, but I have this nagging feeling that something is brooding beneath the sands…"

Aola turned to the hard stone that made up the floor. She gave it a few taps with the soles of her boots, half expecting something evil to burst out.

"Aola," Emiya said, "Has Hollowport always been like this?"

The twi'lek shook her head, "It wasn't this dangerous the last time I… came with dad."

"And when was that?"

"Maybe three months ago?"

"Were there more guards in the streets?"

Aola nodded, "Yes."

"What about the chaos near the entrance, were the outlying districts always such a mess?"

Aola stared down at the table, brows angled in thought. She didn't really remember much, but she knew the streets didn't use to look so dirty and chaotic. Even the thugs like the ones who had attacked them had used to keep to the districts that lay at the back of the outpost, where her father had always cautioned against going.

She shook her head.

Emiya nodded, "Then something must have changed," he frowned as he flexed his fingers and stared at his open palm, "Of course, this could all just be paranoia on my part."

"Observation: Perhaps you _are_ looking too much into this, Master," HK droned, "Perhaps Czerka had to lay off some of its personnel to cover holes in its finances, or perhaps some of its security detail has been dispatched to operations outside of the outpost."

"Both are plausible. Still, it doesn't hurt to be cautious." Emiya crossed his arms.

"Commentary: Of course. Caution is the best of mindsets, Master. Especially when dealing with meatbags," The droid thrummed, "That, and shooting first, naturally."

Emiya let out a breath and shook his head.

"You think something weird is going on?" Aola asked, fingers playing with the hem of her cloak.

"Remember what Moeni said?" the boy asked, "Apparently, something happened a weak or so ago, something that drove the prices up."

Aola nodded, wondering what could have happened.

"Now, whatever happened could have been limited to the inn, or it could have affected the outpost as a whole. We need more information before we start grasping at straws," Emiya cautioned with a raised finger.

"Query: …why would we grasp at straws?" HK asked, and Aola found herself nodding along.

Emiya sighed, "It's a saying. It means to look for problems where there are none."

"Commentary: Meatbags and their turns of phrases." The droid hummed.

The boy drummed his knuckles on HK with a raised eyebrow.

Aola turned to her lap in thought. Maybe something really did happen here. The outpost had gotten more dangerous than she remembered, so perhaps the idea wasn't too far off...

The twi'lek frowned and pulled at the flaps of her cloak. This meant they'd have to be even more cautious than before. If what happened yesterday was any indication, she was sure to attract attention if she wasn't careful enough.

She massaged her temple and caressed her wrapped lekku when her head started to ache.

This also meant she'd have to rely on her friend even further. She wasn't fond of the idea. It made her feel useless, like a dead-weight that'd pull him down and paint a target on his back for slavers and bandits alike.

"Something on your mind?" Emiya asked, and she jerked her head towards him.

"N-no?" She said.

The boy stared into her eyes before shrugging, "Aola, I don't mind if you share your thoughts. I'm not going to bite you."

She frowned when she pictured him nibbling on her lekku, before dismissing the thought. "I…"

"Go ahead," Emiya invited, uncrossing his arms and resting them over his lap, "Speak your mind."

Aola frowned and turned to her lap, again. What was she supposed to say? That she felt weak and useless? That he should leave her here and go about his business? She shook her head. What would he think of her if she said that?

"Observation: I believe the meatbag has realized the limits of her usefulness." HK droned.

"That's not—

She cut herself off before her voice could attract unwanted attention.

"That's not true…" she whispered, eyes boring into her side of the table.

"…Is that what you've been thinking about?" Emiya asked.

Aola inclined her head further and refused to meet his eyes.

 _Stupid droid!_ She'd throw him into a bin on the first occasion! Goddess, she had half a mind to pick him apart and sell him to some jawa for pocket change, maybe even weld him to the side of a spaceship and leave him there to gawk at the stars!

…though, maybe that last one was a little too mean. He'd probably turn the people inside mad.

"Look," Emiya rapped his knuckles on his edge of the table, "Aola, look at me."

The girl opened her eyes and met his.

"I have no idea where you've gotten that idea from. You're not useless."

Aola smiled faintly. She didn't know if it was true, but it made her feel good nonetheless.

"Observation: Master, I think you're—

A single, heavy rasp of Emiya's knuckles was enough to silence the droid.

"Don't listen to HK. You know as well as I do how much of a… jerk he can be," Emiya said.

Aola shook her head, "But it's true…"

"What is?" Emiya asked.

"That I'm useless…" the girl said.

"Nonsense. You've led us through Hollowport. We wouldn't have made it here if it wasn't for you."

Was that what she was? Was that all she could do? Guide them through the streets and show them around? Even HK could do that, she thought.

Aola shook her head, "That's not enough. I don't want to be just a guide."

"Then what do you want to do?" Emiya asked, slightly leaning with his elbows onto the table.

"I…" Aola thought about it. What could she do? Cook? Barter? Fight?

"You…" Emiya started, " _We_ are kids, Aola. There isn't much any of us can do at the moment."

"That's not true," Aola shook her head and met his questioning gaze, "You… you're amazing. You can do all sorts of things without asking for anyone's help, you can take on two adults by yourself and keep us safe," She lowered her eyes to the table and gripped the fabric of her pants. "You even k-killed those two…"

She heard the steel of his seat creak when he leaned forward, "…You think I'm amazing because I killed those thugs?"

Aola met his gaze and froze. There was… something in his eyes that made her want to jump under the table and hide away.

She gulped, reaching for her lekku and stroking her tchun.

"There is nothing amazing about murder," he joined his fingers, "Had there been any other way, I'd have seized it. I only did what was necessary in order to… ensure our safety."

He lowered his gaze for a moment, before he spoke again, "That's not something you should look up to. If anything, you should be wary of me. Who says I wouldn't do the same thing to you?"

Aola shook her head vigorously, "You wouldn't!"

"Oh?" he smirked, "Confident, are we?"

"You'd never do that!" Aola insisted, "I've seen you help the jawas, and you took care of me, too. I… I know you'd never do that to someone unless they deserved it…"

Emiya shrugged, "You'd be surprised, Aola. I've been a… jerk for a good portion of my life. I've done things I'm not very proud of, but that's neither here nor there. What I'm trying to say is, don't trust people so easily …your closest friend could end up stabbing you in the back."

Aola leaned away, lips quivering as she stared at her friend. She felt a tear well up in the corner of her eye and brushed it off before he could see it.

Emiya raised his hands and shook his head, "I'm not saying I will. Just… be careful around people, okay? Don't be too quick to offer your trust."

Frustrated and unsure what to think, Aola turned to her lap. Did he really have to say all of that? She'd heard it all before… her mom and dad had told her the same things, before they…

"Shirou," her friend said.

Aola tilted her head and stared at him, "…What?"

"Shirou," Emiya heaved his shoulders, "That's my… name. I want you to call me that."

"Uhm, isn't your name E-Emiya?"

"It is," The boy said, "Both are, in fact. Emiya is my family name, the one I got from my adoptive father. Shirou is… well, let's just say it's been a while since anyone has called me that."

Aola nodded, she had heard his story before, or part of it, at least. "U-uhm…"

"I don't think I've ever heard you call my name. Come on, give it a try." Emiya insisted.

Aola opened her lips, but the words caught in her throat. She closed her mouth and turned to a neighboring table, squeezing her arm for comfort. Why did he want her to call his name all of a sudden? Was this a joke? Was he teasing her again?

"Aola Sun'wesu. If you don't say my name, I'm afraid we can't be friends any longer."

She swiveled her head in distress and blurted, "N-no!".

Emiya shook his head and threw his hands in the air, "No can do. I'm afraid HK here will have to take over."

"Commentary: Yes... I and the blue fleshbag will be the _best_ of friends, Master. She'll be in good hands. I'm sure she'd enjoy a crash course on… meatbag dispatchment."

Aola reeled back, face set in obvious terror.

Emiya made to stand and grabbed his bag before Aola leaned over the table and grasped his sleeve "W-wait! I'll do it!"

The boy turned towards her with a cocked eyebrow, and Aola looked away, before letting go of his tunic and lowering herself back on her seat.

"Sh-Shero—

"No," Emiya planted a hand on the table with a vigorous shake of his head, "Not Shero. Absolutely not."

"Uhm, S-Shirou?"

The boy stared at her long and hard before nodding and motioning for her to continue.

"E-Emiya S-Shirou?" the words almost spilled out of her mouth the way she stuttered.

"Good," he dropped back onto his seat, "See? It wasn't too hard, was it?"

Aola frowned and tried to glare.

Emiya smirked and crossed his arms.

She turned away with a pout.

"I want you to call me by name from now on," the boy said, "If you really think of us as friends, that is."

She didn't know what this was about, but there was one thing she knew for sure: She didn't like being played like this. Not even by her best friend.

"Anyway," Emiya… Shirou said, resting his elbow on the table and laying his chin in the crux of his palm, "I wouldn't advise you compare yourself to me, Aola. We're… different. We've both lived different lives, and experienced different things. I know how to fight because I learned how to out of necessity. Likewise, I'm sure there are things you can do that I wouldn't be able to."

Aola met his gaze and raised her eyebrows, "Really?"

"Really," Shirou shrugged, "You're kind, sweet and spirited. You're willing to put in effort and learn what you don't know, and that's not something many people would be willing to do at your age."

She felt there was a question, there, to be asked, the way he spoke about age, but the warmth that spread through her cheeks had her turn to admire the intricate steelwork of the table, "R-Really?"

"Why would I lie about any of this?" he shrugged.

She hoped he didn't. She had no idea if any of those words he threw at her were true, but she wanted to believe. Besides, that meant she wasn't useless, right? …Or did it?

Maybe she could ask him for help? Maybe he could teach her all those amazing things he knew?

"Uhm…" she twiddled her fingers, "C-could you maybe teach me?"

Emiya raised an eyebrow.

"S-Shirou?"

He let out a sigh and heaved his shoulders, "What would I teach you?"

Everything— she wanted to say, but she knew it wasn't possible.

"Maybe how to fight?" she tried.

He stared at her in silence for a minute or two before closing his eyes and leaning against his seat.

"Why?"

"To help you," She said, almost instantly, and Emiya lifted an eyebrow in response.

"…You want to help me by learning how to fight?"

Aola shook her head and pumped her fists, "Not just how to fight. I want to learn as much as I can!"

He gave her a look she didn't really understand, "…Just to be sure, you're not trying to emulate me, are you?"

Aola tilted her head. Emulate? What did that even mean?

"You're not trying to copy me? To do what I do just because I helped you?"

Well, she wasn't really sure. Maybe she was?

Aola shrugged.

Emiya closed his eyes and drummed his fingers over his arms, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to help. Just… don't let that be your only goal in life. I've seen people lose themselves in the pursuit of their ideals and become shallow copies of their former selves," he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, "chasing an ideal doesn't work for everybody. Don't just live for others, but live for your own sake as well. Else, you might come to regret it…"

Aola turned to her lap and stared at her intertwined fingers. She wasn't sure she understood everything he said, but she thought she got the gist of it.

"You're saying I should learn, not just to help you, but to help myself as well?"

Emiya nodded, "Better yourself for your own sake. Help others only when you can, and steer clear of situations that are out of your league. If we're clear on that, then I'm willing to teach you whatever I can."

A rare smile bloomed on Aola's face, sparkling with elation. She pumped her fists enthusiastically and nodded.

She may be useless now, but it wouldn't last. She'd make sure of it.

"But for now…" Emiya turned to the side and uncrossed his arms, "We should focus on putting some meat on our bones."

"Two breakfast specials!" Moeni lowered bowls half full of something that looked vaguely like gruel before the two of them. It was accompanied by a side dish of… well, dried tentacles and small balls of varying colors and sizes.

Aola wasn't sure she'd ever had a meal like this. It looked too… plain for something that cost so much.

"Is this…" Shirou raised an eyebrow as he stirred the gruel with his spoon.

"Hmm?" Moeni held her empty tray to her chest and stared at them with a smile, "Go on, dig in. It tastes better than it looks!"

"Commentary: Master, I think you should not…" HK paused, "actually, you have my approval. I have a feeling you've never tasted anything _quite_ like this."

"Well…" Shirou looked to Aola with an inviting shrug, "Ladies first?"

* * *

Flavored water.

They had paid ten credits for flavored water and a side of rubbery dessert.

Emiya wasn't yet sure what was worse. That the supposedly dried tentacles had writhed when he had reached for one, or that he could have sworn he had seen something black and hairy swimming in his gruel.

He was still trying to get the taste off, rolling his tongue in his mouth and spitting out what chunks of _somethings_ were still stuck between his teeth. He had already wasted a good portion of his canteen trying to wash down the horrible tang, yet, despite his best efforts, his tongue still stung from whatever spice they had thrown into the food.

Aola was doing much better, however. He was still divided on whether he should chalk it up to differing biology or simply a question of habit and experience, but the girl didn't seem to have been bothered by the taste at all. If anything, she looked radiant.

Emiya let out a sigh. He'd never eat at that place again. Not without some serious incentive.

He turned to the twi'lek strutting beside him, humming along as she eyed the many stalls and stores interspersed throughout the mercantile district.

She had a spring to her steps and a pleased smile across her lips. Her excitement had spiked up ever since he had promised to give her some tutoring, and he was starting to feel it might have been a poorly thought idea.

He wasn't against giving her some insights into self-defense and peace of mind, but he had a feeling she was looking for more than that. Eager pupils tended to take things too far.

Would he be a good teacher? Would she be able to go through whatever training he could cook up? He wasn't so sure…

"Observation: Meatbags to the left, meatbags to the right. Master, my trigger finger is itching for some action."

"You have no fingers, HK," Emiya eyed the droid under his arm.

"Query: And whose fault do you think that is, Master?"

"A nasty little droid who's got scraps for brains," Emiya shrugged, "Who was it that refused to be outfitted with spare parts?"

"Answer: You mean old, rusted parts with cables peeking through every possible hole? I'd rather live the rest of my droid life as a ball of scrap, thank you."

"See?" Emiya threw his hand in the air, "If you could only tone down your ego and accept perfectly usable pieces, you'd be on your own two feet in the blink of an eye. Hell, we could even give you four."

"Statement: I refuse anything that doesn't have Czerka's pristine stamp on it," HK said, "And what aberration are you thinking up in that tanned head of yours? Four legs? What's next, six arms?"

Emiya smirked and brushed away some of the hair that fell over his eye, "I was thinking you wouldn't look too bad with a tail and some cat ears," he took the droid and put him away in the bag slung over his shoulder, "And a little, pink bow to show off how cute you are."

HK's eyes lit up in bright yellows, "Query: Is this revenge for what happened in the cantina? Can I look for a new master, still?"

Emiya shook his head and threw the cover of his satchel over the droid.

He would have to give HK some proper outfitting, but he had yet to find parts compatible with his build. As far as he had looked, there were no components for HK-47 models in any of the places he had scoured.

"Ah!" Aola exclaimed from beside him and skipped over to a small shop sandwiched between a larger building and a cluster of stalls. At first sight, it looked like an igloo-like dwelling made of stone and crisscrossed with steel and faintly glowing lights.

It had a large window that spammed the entirety of its front, and probably the back, too, if he bothered to check.

He followed behind the twi'lek, keeping an eye on her and the cavalcade of people they passed.

The market was relatively safe, compared to the chaos of the earlier districts. It was different from the central plaza and the long avenue that ran through it, and while those had their fair share of street shops and establishments catering to various needs, the marketplace had larger, more specialized stores, some even carrying brands supposedly from off-world. If one wanted to buy a good weapon or purchase some supplies, chances were they'd find all they'd need around here. He wasn't sure how accurate the information Aola and HK gave him, but it was all he had to work with.

Unsurprisingly enough, Czerka had even less of a presence here, completely leaving the policing of the district to what he could see of the various mercenaries and hired grunts that watched over the businesses, and provided enough of a deterrent to keep the more… emboldened locals from trying anything untoward.

He and the girl would be safe. As long as they kept to the main venue and didn't stray too far into the less savory parts of the marketplace.

Oh, he had seen some trails that led to some rather shady corners of the district, where hunched figures lurked in the shadows and eyed the passersby with intent. There had also been some unsavory signs hung up here and there, but those had been subtle enough that only individuals who could see through the bold, colorful letters and blinking shapes would understand their purpose. He couldn't read any of them, mind you, but he had a feeling he knew what sort of businesses those advertised.

They came to a stop before the blotchy glass panel that encompassed most of the domed storefront.

Aola put her hands to the window and leaned closer. She let out a sigh as she stared at a small mannequin displaying some sort of head accessory. It looked like a headband cut from leather, lined with silver and set with a small amber stone where the band dipped over the forehead.

Emiya's eyes stopped on the small screen just below the mannequin.

"Well…" he started, "This isn't cheap."

Aola nodded, "That's a Jookan jewel."

"Huh," Emiya hummed. The amber stone wasn't the prettiest gem he had ever laid eyes on, but there was a certain charm to it. When he narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, he noticed… something swimming inside, like tiny, orange petals floating in a pool of faded crimson.

He wondered what it would look like under his structural analysis.

"Dad said these stones were first discovered by twi'lek settlers," Aola said, "They used to mine them and sell them to the jawas, before Czerka bought the mines and started shipping the stones off-world."

Emiya turned to the twi'lek. She had her head pressed against the glass, staring longingly at the accessory.

"They used to make headbands and bracelets out of them, back in my village. Every kid got one once they were old enough."

"A coming-of-age gift?" Emiya asked.

Aola nodded, "Mom had a headband just like this one."

"I see…"

Her desire was left unspoken, yet fairly easy to decipher. His hand found itself resting over his pocket, and his fingers traced the edges of the credit chips stored inside. The headband was out of their league, however. Three hundred credits was too large of a sum for their meager savings.

His eyes moved to the items lining the shelves. There was a small display in one of the corners, featuring a short, blinking message in basic. He had yet to learn the written language, besides what limited words he had been taught by Javii, but some of the runes were common enough for even him to make sense of, such as _Sale_ or _Pawn_.

"Come on," Emiya nudged Aola and strode towards the entrance, "let's check inside."

She acquiesced, tracing the glass with her fingers and only taking her eyes off the headband once they had stepped through the sliding door.

The way into the shop proper was through a small tunnel that swerved downwards. Ceiling-set lights lit up the bending path, casting a dim, neutral tone over the dusty steps. After going down what felt like a floor or two, the passage eventually emerged into a large room filled to the brim with curios and parts, where the air was chill and the floor carpeted.

"Commentary: Keep your eyes peeled, Master," HK whispered, "We might find some adequate parts in here—

"Welcome to Goog's Emporium!" Announced an enthusiastic droid stood behind a counter at the back of the room. Its voice carried easily through the air, accentuated by the excited movements of its metallic hands and bright, golden eyes, "Whatever you're looking for, we have it! If we don't, we will!"

"Commentary: Not one of those…"

Emiya stood still and ignored the waving droid as he eyed the room from corner to corner. Aola stopped next to him and followed his gaze.

Tools and equipment occupied a good portion of the room, stacked on top of sturdy shelves or jealously kept behind cages of steel or fortified display cases. There were mounds of overflowing junk in one of the corners, where pieces of metal mingled with peeking lengths of colorful plastics. A pair of lamps hung low from the ceiling, shedding soft, yellow hues over the assortment of curiosities and keeping the room sufficiently alight.

The soft smell of cheap detergent that hung in the air told him the room had been recently cleaned, though poorly, if the faint blanket of dust and sand that layered the walls and some of the merchandise was anything to go by. Slight traces of machine oil and exotic incenses also tinged the air, stirring something nostalgic deep within Emiya's heart.

He allowed himself inside shortly after, stepping past vitrines and stands highlighting a myriad of gadgets and weapons ranging from the primitive to the sophisticated. Aola followed along, visibly mesmerized by the oddities around.

They stepped past a scrawny alien sitting on a chair and cradling a long rifle in its hands. The creature leaned on its elbows when they passed and gave them something of an intimidating glare, before clicking its tongue and leaning back against its seat with what Emiya assumed was a mumbled curse.

He ignored it, only making note of its equipment and physical traits.

Small, domed devices dangled from the high ceiling, like miniature stalactites of glass and electronics, furtive and almost indiscernible in the shadows of the overhanging lights. He wasn't sure if those were cameras, or some other technology he had yet to get acquainted with. Tiny, automated laser turrets, perhaps?

"Hey," Emiya greeted, once they had reached the counter, and gave what he could see of the droid a quick inspection.

Thin limbs sprouted from a large chassis, giving the droid a strange and unbalanced feel. He wasn't sure if its cylindrical head looked any stranger than the rest of its body.

"Welcome, Human!" the droid said, "Nice weather today, huh?"

"If you're fond of scorching sunbathes," Emiya shrugged.

"Is this your first time in this establishment?" The droid asked, slightly leaning over the counter.

"I'm not sure. This town is a real maze," Emiya diverted.

"Well, whether you're a returning customer, or simply a prospecting patron, you're welcome all the same!" The droid said enthusiastically, "I'm sure we can cater to your needs. What will it be today? Some frozen Alderaan treats? Maybe one of those new toys the youngsters are raving about? Oh, I know. How about this…" it produced a small cylindrical hilt from behind the counter, "This is the latest fad in terms of recreational weaponry," It pushed a button at the base of the cylinder and a beam of spastic light flushed out of its end, "The EmTec Lightsaber, from the best Corellian toy manufact—

"What kind of costumers do you take us for?" Emiya said, knocking his knuckles onto the glass, "We're not here for tacky laser swords or… ice-creams."

He thought he heard a small gasp from beside him but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Oh… well, pardon my spiel. How can I be of help?" The droid said.

Emiya flipped the cover of his bag and rummaged through the contents. He fished out a collection of trinkets and items and deposited them onto the counter. Aola joined him, and soon, they had amassed quite the little pile.

"We'd like to sell these," Emiya said.

"Oh, goodness," The droid intoned, its nimble fingers sifting through the mound, "A Gorthian bracelet… A durasteel lighter… A sand pearl… My, there is even an old krayt tooth. Now, this isn't something you see everyday…"

Emiya closed his bag and waited for the droid to finish its assessment. He turned his attention to a collection of knives and swords arrayed in a small backlit display to the side, busying himself by giving each of the blades a superficial analysis.

He was disappointed when none of the weapons triggered a reaction from his reality marble, but it was expected. He had spent days aboard an alien landship working around instruments and crockery, yet none had tickled his senses.

It seemed whatever had robbed him of his circuits had also stolen the passive abilities of his marble.

Emiya let out a breath and turned back to the droid.

"…well, this is quite the assortment of odds and ends you have here. Might I ask where you found all of these?"

Emiya's brow perked, "Is it common practice to question your customers?"

"Apologies," the droid waved both of its hands, "I tend to let my curiosity get the better of me. Please, ignore my previous query."

Emiya shrugged, "So, how much?"

"Eighty-three credits, good sir," The droid nodded, "I'm afraid some of the items presented here don't hold any proper value."

Emiya nodded.

"How much would this sell for?" He produced a small blaster from under his cloak and slid it onto the counter.

"Wait…" Aola grabbed his arm, "You want to sell your gun?"

Emiya shook his head, "I'm only curious."

The droid picked up the blaster and turned it in its hands, "Now this is quite the find, isn't it? An Aratech hold-out blaster in good condition. Would three hundred and twenty credits be satisfactory?"

"Statement: Now this is simply preposterous."

"Apologies?" The droid gestured in confusion.

"I think my… friend is unsatisfied," Emiya shook his head and brought the droid out of his bag, "Remember that pink bow we discussed earlier? Yeah, keep it in mind. I don't want any trouble here, okay?"

"Answer: Master, please, when have I ever let you down?"

Emiya raised an eyebrow.

"Statement: …No trouble, was it? Got it."

He put the droid down on the counter and crossed his arms.

"Warning: Ahem. Listen here, you tin-head," HK vibrated, "If you think you can swindle my Master out of a good deal, you're sticking your flinty fingers into your exhaust vents!"

Emiya sighed, "HK."

He noticed Aola palming her face from the corner of his eyes. It seemed she, too, knew exactly where this was going.

"Statement: Let me deal with this, Master."

"Goodness," the other droid said, "What is this diminutive thing?"

"Shock: Di-Diminutive?!" HK fumed, "You're stepping right into the trash-compactor, droid!"

"By the makers! You have my heartfelt apologies, I meant no offense!"

"Response: Offense well and duly taken, you overcompensating moron! You're going to give my Master a fair deal, or I swear on your servos, you won't whirr to see another day!"

The droid reeled back, "A fair deal? Is the amount offered unsatisfactory?"

"Answer: If by unsatisfactory you mean lacking a zero or two, then _unsatisfactory_ clearly doesn't capture the scope of my dissatisfaction. And the master's, of course."

The droid gasped, "I'm afraid overpricing does not feature as one of my protocols."

"Observation: Then your protocols are clearly lacking. What kind of salesman doesn't overprice?"

"Enough," Emiya picked up HK and threw him back into his bag, "Away with you. I have a feeling you're going to sabotage the day if I let you do as you want."

"Complaint: But, Master! How else are we going to get the credits to buy me new parts!"

"Ignore him," Emiya shook his head and sighed for good measure, "The offer is tempting, but the blaster isn't for sale."

"I see…" the droid drummed its fingers over the counter, "Shall I conclude the trade, then?"

"Not yet," Emiya reached behind him for the old rifle slung over his shoulder, "How about this one?"

"Hmm," the droid took the wrapped weapon from his hands and placed it on top of the counter, "An old Cerbos blaster rifle," its fingers slid across the length of the barrel and stopped above the stock, "Ah, I'm guessing it's not in working condition?"

Emiya shrugged, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

The droid nodded, "Take a look here," it pointed towards the frame, "The ionizer is fried, and the cycler module is missing. Even the barrel itself is slightly warped. It's as if someone took it and smacked it upside of a block of duraplast. What kind of monster could have mustered enough strength to bend durasteel?"

Aola shifted on her feet and looked away.

Emiya heaved his shoulders, "Now, that's a good question." He brushed a few strands of hair away. He'd need to have it cut soon. "How much would it cost to have it repaired?"

"Around three hundred credits, at the least. I'm afraid ionizer modules for these older models are hard to come by."

"Commentary: I think your swindling subroutines are in need of a good downgrade." HK said, his voice muffled through the leather.

Emiya tapped his fingers over the counter. He'd have to sell his smaller blaster to have his bigger toy overhauled, but would it be worth it?

The rifle was old and clunky. He'd rather invest in something smaller and cheaper to maintain.

In the end, he had decided to sell it. The droid had given them three hundred and twenty credits for the weapon plus the various trinkets they had brought, enough to tide them over for a few days. Weeks, even, if they were careful.

"One last thing," Emiya said, "have a look at this."

He produced a small marble from one of his pockets, and carefully placed it on top of the pile of oddities.

It was the same as the one he had projected the night prior, except this one was a perfect copy of the original marble, both inside and out, without the imperfections and reinforced just enough to give it a better shine and sturdier structure.

"Goodness…" the clerk took the gem and rolled it between its fingers, "this is quite the jewel. Are you offering it up for sale?"

"Not quite yet," Emiya shook his head, "how much would you pay for it, if it were?"

"I couldn't say," The droid heaved its shoulders, carefully dropping the small ball back in Emiya's hands, "I'd need to give it a proper analysis, first, but the locals are fond of these things. I'm sure it would sell well."

Emiya nodded and placed the marble in Aola's hand when he noticed her insistent gaze. She had been looking at it rather intensely from the moment he had brought it out.

She marveled at the small jewel between her fingers and gasped at it, "W-where did you find this?"

"That's a secret."

"Anything else I can help you with?" The droid asked.

"That's all for the moment," Emiya shook his head, "But I think you'll hear from us again soon."

"Commentary: A second please, Master," HK said.

"What is it?"

"Suggestion: Considering where we're headed, I suggest you buy a small projector and a memory chip. I'm sure those will come in handy."

Emiya raised an eyebrow. HK wasn't wrong. He looked at the salesdroid expectantly, and the latter nodded before turning away and disappearing behind the counter. The droid came back not a minute later and slid some small, circular device over the glass.

Emiya picked it up and turned it in his hands.

"The model in your hands is a generic, brandless holo-projector. It's cheap and sturdy, and can even act as a communicator," the droid touted.

"Pretty convenient, huh?" Emiya gave the gadget a good shake, "you said it can be used for communication?"

"Indeed!" The droid responded, looking strangely proud, "Just have it registered at one of the communications offices throughout the outpost. You'll even be able to contact the galactic senate if you so wish!"

"Huh," Emiya hummed, "How much?"

"Fifty credits. Plus another three for a storage chip."

Emiya nodded. He slipped a few credits out of his pocket and pushed them towards the droid.

"We will be looking forward to your patronage!"

Emiya put the projector and memory chip away, then turned around and pulled a bedazzled Aola along as they stepped away from the counter.

Overall, this little visit had proven to be quite profitable. They certainly hadn't gotten rich, but Emiya already had a small idea churning in his mind. It wouldn't serve him to be hasty, however, and he'd need to give it some more thought before he put his plan into motion.

He stopped by a small cabinet displaying a long blade behind a panel of thick glass. It wasn't too different in shape from the many blades he had seen in his time, almost plain and boring from its shape alone. He knew it was anything but, however. There were lines of blue and green that streaked all across its silver blade, and connected with the pommel before disappearing beneath colorful ornaments.

His hand reached for the small knob on the side of the case and pulled the glass to the side.

The Alien sitting close by turned his way and cocked his weapon in a warning gesture. Emiya reached for the blade and took it with both hands.

It felt heavy and warm to the touch, the lines etched into the blade coming to life with vibrant blues and greens when the pommel settled in his palm. It was too big and thick for him to hold properly, and he had to wrap both of his hands around it lest it clattered to the floor.

The sword thrummed softly when he pushed a small button, obviously animated by some sort of energy.

"A beautiful piece, isn't it?" Something said behind him.

The droid walked up to them, its feet clinking on the floor.

"That one is a ceremonial blade. A unique piece that was passed down through generations of dune warriors before eventually making its way to our shop. We have more practical models, if you are interested. Vibroswords and vibroblades of every size and utility."

Emiya turned back to the blade in his hands. If this sword was an object of ceremony, he wondered what the real thing would look and feel like. He longed to hold something familiar in his hands, and these vibroweapons looked promising. Besides, he was curious what kind of mysteries he could pierce through with some well-applied structural analysis.

Emiya smirked, "I'd love to."

* * *

"Please?" Aola pleaded.

"You know I can't," Emiya said.

"Why?" the twi'lek stepped closer.

He let out a heavy sigh, "Because it's a secret. I can't just go and give away everything, can I?"

Aola shook her head and clutched the cusp of his sleeve, "I won't tell anyone. We're friends!"

His brow perked, "Well, friends or not, no still means no."

Aola let go and turned away, muttering something under her breath.

"I can still hear you, you know?" He said.

She gave him a petulant pout, then huffed away.

Emiya shrugged, "Look, how about this? I'll tell you where I found it if you behave well for the rest of the day. Deal?"

She turned back after a small moment of hesitation, and raised her pinky, "Promise?"

Emiya completed the seal, "Promise."

Aola smiled and turned back to gaze at the marble in the crux of her palm.

At least, she had forgotten all about the headband. She could keep the gem if she liked it so much. He could always make more.

Emiya's gaze drifted to the skies above, when something large and noisy flew overhead. He followed the trailing exhaust of a green-hulled ship that shot upwards and disappeared beyond the skyline, leaving behind only the fading roars of its engines.

Emiya wondered how easy it would be to find a ship and travel into space. He had no idea what lay beyond the skies of Tatooine, and had yet to meet anyone who knew enough to give him a proper rundown of the state of the galaxy.

Aola's education was lacking in certain aspects, focusing more on the grounded and the practical, and the jawas cared more about the happenings of their planet than the extratatooinian, if that was even a word.

To gain knowledge was his current and only goal. It would be the first step on the nebulous stairway that would hopefully lead to the understanding of his situation.

Perhaps Earth was somewhere out there, only at the jump of a few stars, and still as green and blue as he remembered it.

Emiya shook his head. He wouldn't hold onto ephemeral hopes. He had a feeling his quest would reveal just as many questions as it would answer, if not more.

He stopped in his tracks and stepped to the side, warning Aola along when a large, four-legged creature passed by. A short alien rode on top of it, clothed in robes and waving a long staff around as it shouted something in a bizarre tongue.

Maybe he'd look for an encyclopedia as well. Some of the creatures they had come across were intriguing.

He turned back ahead and resumed his walk. They were on the edge of the market, on a street that led away from the hustle of the busy businesses, and into the most well-guarded and wardened area of the outpost, yet.

The long tower that stretched before them, fused into the side of the even longer mountain behind it, loomed over the entire outpost, and made for quite the sight, especially from up close.

Dozens of crafts and shuttles flew overhead, their engines blowing through the air as they skimmed through the clouds and landed on the extended platforms that sprouted out of the tower.

The base of the monolithic structure was made of solid metal that seemed to tunnel into the rock, with a large, gated entrance that served as the main way into the tower. Above it, panels of glass and beams of steel stretched upwards, reflecting the blinding rays of the twin suns of Tatooine unto the surrounding streets.

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears, accompanying the files of security personnel that patrolled the direct vicinity of the tower, their weapons bared and uniforms dotted with sand and faded from wear. The markings of Czerka, the golden lines that streaked across green, were obvious under the plates of their armor.

As if the patrols weren't enough, Emiya spied more than a few turrets stood atop of the surrounding buildings, some automated and others manned, some aimed at the sky and others at the streets below.

Emiya let his gaze wander around and took in the sights of the tower and its surrounding facilities.

"Careful," he told Aola, eying a coming patrol and swerving to the left, "keep out of their way, we don't want to antagonize them."

"O-okay," Aola grasped her bag and angled her head.

They made their way forward, stepping past clusters of chattering individuals and parked vehicles. They eventually stopped at the back of an orderly line, where a dozen or so people were eager to set foot into the tower.

He heard a commotion far to his left, where a few guards were manhandling a winged alien with snail-like eyes pushed against a wall.

He noticed the frown on Aola's features, and gave her wrist a small squeeze.

She offered him a smile and a slight nod in return.

"Next!" It didn't take long before they stood in front of the security post, guarded by two armed men on either side.

The counter was almost higher than him and the twi'lek, and Emiya had to stand on the tips of his toes to catch the agent's attention through the small, open window.

"What's a midget doing here?" The guard took off his helmet and massaged the bridge of his nose, "This isn't a playground. Get lost."

"We'd like entry into the tower," Emiya said.

"Entry?" the guard barked a single laugh, "And what's someone like you gonna do inside? Wait, don't answer. I know. You think it'd be nice to go inside and stare at all the cool stuff, right? Maybe take a holo or two, or have a look at all the cute girls while you're there, huh? Are you even old enough to chase skirts?"

Emiya frowned. His bowl was almost full from being treated like a kid all day long, "Look, I just—

"Scram," the guard rested his cheek on his palm and waved his other hand, "Squirts like you have nothing to do here. The last time I allowed one of you inside, he crawled into a ship's reactor and ended up burned to crisps, along with his dad! You have no idea the kind of paperwork I had to fill."

"Observation: What an annoying pri—

"Ahem," Emiya gave his bag a good shake, and shrugged when the guard raised his eyebrow.

"We're not here to play. We have business inside."

"Business?" the guard smirked, "What sort of business does a kid have with Czerka? Better yet, what kind of business do _you_ have with _me_?"

Emiya pulled out a few credits and slid them by the window, "We'd like to use the information center."

"Smart lad, aren't you?" the guard picked up the chips and pocketed them away, "But I'm afraid the center is closed right now. Maybe come back, say, at ten," he wiggled his brows and tapped his fingers.

Emiya let out a sigh, "I'm afraid mommy and daddy won't let me out so late," He skidded a few more creds over, "my curfew is at three."

He hated dealing with these types of people the most. Oh, how he wished he still was as old and tall as he used to be. Even his glare had lost its edge, looking more like a defiant pout than anything else.

The guard let out a single chuckle. He leaned against his seat and pushed a button to the side. "Stand still, I'm gonna screen you," A small, round droid flew out of the top of the guard post and down to them, "heh, as if a kid would have a—

The lens at the front of the droid flashed red and the guard let out a sigh, "I hate this frigging hole. Last thing you know, a kid is gonna put a smoking hole between your eyes," He palmed his face before extending a small box through the window, "you can keep the droid, but I want your weapons. Both of them. And no funny tricks, or these boys outside will make a barbecue out of you."

Emiya complied. Though with some reluctance from Aola, they handed both of their blasters.

"You're green to go," The guard flipped a switch beyond the window and caused a small passage to open through the gate, "Go straight through the door; the center will be on the second turn to your left. And don't stray, or I'll send some mean droids after you," He gestured with his hands and brows as if to scare them.

Emiya shook his head and led the march. He heard the guard huff and his seat squeak when they ignored him.

More guards stood at attention along the length of the gate, and yet one more security post was located right beyond the small passage that had opened up. The man there let them pass with a nod before turning back to his projector, and they proceeded inside without much trouble.

A long, gray corridor extended far before them, brightly lit and well-conditioned. Lines of painted green and yellow halved the walls on either side, disappearing beyond corners and open doors.

They passed by the entrance of a side room, where a group of people– technicians and engineers, judging by their apparel and the tool belts slung across their shoulders– were huddled around a large projection depicting a man in a prim uniform and a stern face.

They continued down the corridor and passed yet another room, where the sounds of heavy machinery and hollering voices leaked into the hallway. When they tried to take a peek inside, a large and dark droid barred their way and directed them further down the corridor.

The automated guard had surprised Aola out of her wits, and the poor girl had hidden behind him after letting out a shrilling scream. Thankfully, her voice had been swallowed by the surrounding noise and the droid had professed its apologies afterward.

"You can let go, you know?" he told the twi'lek, "Unless you misbehave, I doubt any of the people around here will care about us."

"I-I'm okay!" she mewled, trying to act confident, until a couple of Czerka officers hunched over a datapad brushed past them and caused the girl to fall back behind him, "r-really…"

Emiya raised an eyebrow but let the issue drop. They kept on following the corridor until they took the second turn on their left, where a section of the wall slid upwards and revealed the insides of what looked like a large, and well-endowed library.

They stepped inside, welcoming the quiet atmosphere once the door slid closed behind them.

Rows of glowing rectangles populated the shelves that extended in lines from the center of the room, where a single desk stood with its back to a large, cylindrical cone of glass and bluish light that extended upwards and disappeared beyond the ceiling.

There were computer terminals, too, interspersed through the rows of shelves and tables that filled the information center. Emiya wasn't exactly sure if those qualified as computer terminals, however. They looked more like clunky rectangles of steel with small screens on the side and projectors on top.

The center was almost empty, save for a few people sat alone and leafing through their datapads or holoprojectors.

Emiya made his way toward the reception desk, where a young woman was busy running her fingers across the blue image of a keyboard, while her eyes rapidly sifted through the data projected before her.

"Welcome to Czerka's Center for Research and Education," greeted the receptionist, "How may I help you?"

"We'd like access to the holonet," Emiya said.

"Ah, I see," she said, only now taking her eyes off the floating data. She raised both eyebrows when her gaze settled on them "…kids?"

Emiya raised an eyebrow, "Is there an issue?"

"No," the receptionist quickly recovered her cool and gave them a practiced smile, "I trust you know how to handle the terminals?"

Emiya turned to the twi'lek.

Aola inclined her head, "I do."

The young woman turned back to her projector and nodded, "I will activate terminal number fifteen and connect it to the holonet. Given your apparent age, you two will benefit from Czerka's youth program and have three hours of free access to the network. Any time beyond that will be charged at a fee of ten credits per hour."

"Right," Emiya said, and Aola nodded.

"Please, feel free to recommend Czerka's services to your family and friends," she pointed a dainty hand to her right.

They stepped away from the reception and walked across the room.

There was a single, cushioned bench circling around terminal number fifteen. Aola sat in front of the small screen and Emiya took the seat on her right.

"You think I can take off my hood?" The twi'lek looked over her shoulder at what few people they could spy from their position.

"Go ahead," Emiya said, "It's safe."

Aola smiled, and hurriedly peeled off her cover. She untangled her lekkus and let them drape freely over her shoulders with a contented sigh.

"Inquiry: Master, I wouldn't say no to a breath of fresh air."

Emiya unslung his bag and put it aside. He fished out HK and dropped him on his lap, eyes turned towards the screen.

"Okay," Emiya started. He took off his cloak and threw it over his bag, "Let's turn this thing on."

Aola flipped a small switch on the side of the machine. The screen whirred to life in a shower of letters and beeping noises, before settling on a loading bar that filled up in less than a minute.

"Welcome to Czerka's HoloNet experience!" Said a small, enthusiastic voice when a spinning logo appeared on the screen. The picture shrunk before sweeping away to one of the corners, making way for lengths of text and colorful links to feature on the green-tinted background.

"What does it say?" Emiya asked.

"…Welcome to Czerka's HoloNet experience," Aola began reading the screen out loud, "This terminal has been… granted access to the galactic network. You have two hours and fifty-four minutes of galactic standard time remaining on your allowance. Please, choose one of the options below…"

Aola pointed at the links at the bottom of the screen, "Option one: Overview of Czerka's operations. Option two: Interactive tour of the galaxy. Option three: Open the HoloNet browser."

Emiya nodded, "Option two."

Aola tapped the screen, which went black a second later before the lights of their surroundings dimmed and the projector at the top of the machine flickered on.

The looming projection of a droid appeared before them, floating a good foot or two above the terminal in a show of blue light.

"You have chosen to use the interactive tour of the galaxy," the translucent droid said, "this program was sponsored by the Republic's Ministry of Youth and Education. Would you like to begin the tour?"

"First off, I have a question," Emiya started, "Is there a planet named Earth, or Terra, in this galaxy?"

The droid stood silent for a few seconds, "No such planet is cataloged within the database. Could you provide the name of its star system?"

"The Solar System," Emiya shrugged, "Its star has many names; Helios, Sol, the Sun..."

"…None of the aforementioned are referenced in any of the Republic's star charts."

Emiya closed his eyes and heaved his shoulders. He had been half expecting such an outcome. Not that he was hellbent on finding a way home, but knowing that the Earth was somewhere out there would have given him some solace.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, "You can start the tour."

The image of the droid shrunk and moved aside, and a large map of the galaxy blossomed before them.

"This is a map of the galaxy as we know it," the droid waved an arm towards the map, "This cluster of stars, gas, and dust is about a hundred thousand light-years across and is home to some four hundred billion stars, of which only about a quarter have been thoroughly assessed. All of these revolve around the center," the image grew larger and zoomed into the core of the galaxy, "A massive black hole that weighs as much as four million suns. This is the Deep Core," the droid pointed towards the bright sphere in the center, "It is about seven thousand light-years across and contains about thirty billion stars. It counts as one of the galaxy's most dangerous and deleterious areas, where the stars are about a hundredth of a light year apart, and prone to collide and rip out each other's cores. I'd advise against going there." The droid shook a metallic finger,

"Most of the luminous galaxy is this disk of spiral arms rotating around the Deep Core. Contrary to popular and uneducated belief, the space between these spiral arms is far from being empty," The map zoomed out, "these gaps are full of stars and only look dark on account of the lack of the brightest supergiant stars, as well as the glowing clouds of dust and gas present only in the arms. Do also note that this disk is not perfectly flat. You will find stars above and below wherever you are."

The droid grew in size and overtook the projection, "Do you wish to know more of the galaxy's astrophysical characteristics?"

Emiya shared a look with Aola, before turning back to the projection and shrugging, "No."

"Very well," the guide shrunk and moved back to the corner, "as previously stated, there are about four hundred billion stars in the galaxy, with only seven point one of those habitable. These stars congregate into more or less one hundred and eighty billion star systems, some of which gravitate around more than one star. Only about three point two of these star systems can sustain life."

"Over the millennia since the discovery of the first hyperdrives, only a small fraction of those star systems has actually been charted, and only an estimated billion of those have sentient life living in them."

"Alright," Emiya said, waving his hand, "I think that's enough numbers for a single sitting. Tell us how the galaxy is divided. Show us what the power structure looks like."

"Ah, very well," The droid said, before swerving lines appeared over the map, separating it into regions, "The Galactic Republic has been the ruling government of the galaxy for over twenty thousand years. It is a representative democracy, composed of star systems, sectors and member worlds throughout most of the known galaxy," an orange bubble formed around a good portion of the starmap, highlighting the Core and an expense of stars to the south and east of the galaxy, "Other ruling powers exist, though their influence and reach cannot be compared to the Republic."

"The Hutt Empire is one such entity, whose remnants form what is collectively known as Hutt Space, a lawless region of the galaxy divided amongst the heads of prominent Hutt clans and located to the galactic east of the core," he pointed towards another colored area of the galaxy, much smaller and further from the center.

"So the Republic is the only ruling power? With no contender?" Emiya asked.

"Indeed," the droid confirmed, "Over the eons, the republic has known many conflicts and far-reaching wars, but it has stood strong. Its navy, despite having suffered major losses in the last conflict over a decade ago, is still the only policing force of the galaxy. It is a beacon that shines through the darkest and farthest reaches of space and ensures the safety of the core worlds and subsequent systems."

"I see…"

Emiya wasn't sure how such a monolithic power could sustain the wear and tear of millennia of inner strife and tension, without a rival neighbor to keep it in check and ensure that the hearts of its people were in line with the wishes of the ruling body.

However, he was applying terrestrial logic to a galactic democracy that spanned millions of worlds and star systems, and that realization humbled him. His knowledge was limited, and he'd need to dive deeper into galactic history if he was to make any assumptions.

"What are those lines, circling around the stars?" Emiya asked, "It seems the galaxy is divided into regions. Care to tell us more?"

The droid nodded, "The galaxy is divided into seven regions, exponentially larger and progressively less civilized the further away from the core they extend. Each of these regions corresponds to a particular stage of galactic exploration and settlement."

"From the galactic center rimward, those regions are the Deep Core, the Core, the Colonies, the Inner-Rim, the Expansion Range, the Mid-Rim, and the Outer-Rim," the map glowed with varying tints of blue and white, giving each of the seven regions of the galaxy a succinct shade.

"The Deep Core is the center of the galaxy. It is the innermost region, a pitiless blaze of stars packed closely together, where navigation is difficult and life is very rare. Despite its proximity to the seat of the republic, much of the Deep Core remains unexplored."

"So the Deep Core and the Core are two different regions?" Emiya asked.

"Indeed," the guide nodded, "While often hailed as the center of the galaxy, the Core is the collection of systems directly hugging the glowing halo of the Deep Core. It is the source of the Republic, the birthplace of the human species, and the undisputed hub of galactic culture, finance, technology, education, and fine arts. Most of its worlds are human-dominated, a result of aggressive human settlement and occupation eons before the dawn of the Republic."

Emiya nodded, "What's that bright dot north of the Core?"

"Ah," the droid exclaimed, raising a single finger towards the map, which shrunk and zoomed deep into the galaxy, until a single planet orbited in the projection, "Coruscant. The ultimate symbol of the Core. The cradle of Humanity. Although not the literal center of the galaxy, it might as well be given its political, economic and cultural influence. This hyper-industrialized world, this ecumenopolis, this queen of the Core has been the starting point of human exploration and settlement, and one of the founding members of the Galactic Republic as well as its current capital."

"Commentary: There are a lot of politicians on Coruscant, Master. We could spend a century slaughtering them and still not make a dent."

Emiya raised an Eyebrow. Coruscant, huh? What a fitting name for the gleaming center of the galaxy. If there was one world he'd want to visit, it would be Coruscant. Perhaps it held the answers to his questions?

"It is also the siege of the Jedi Order, whose grand temple extends above and around the sacred spire, and neighbors the Senate District," The map started zooming out, until Emiya held his hand and the projection froze on the image of the city-planet.

"Wait," Emiya leaned forward, "The Jeedai order? What's that?"

"Answer: Boorish monks with laser swords," HK answered, earning Emiya's attention, "The type of people who think they can parlay their way out of a sarlacc's pit."

He had no idea what a Sarlacc was, but he had the impression it was pretty big and toothy.

"I'm afraid the droid's answer is misinformed," spoke the projected guide, "The Jedi are a noble, religious order of warriors most notably renowned for their mastery of the lightsaber arts. They stand as the guardians of peace and justice in the Republic. While they may come off as _boorish monks_ to some, the Republic would not exist today if not for their constant vigil and wise counseling."

"Commentary: A bunch of old and arrogant fools with outdated views, then. Let's not dwell on the subject, however. I think there are more interesting things to explore, like the wonderful Corellian manufactures or the unparalleled weapons industry of Balmorra—

"HK," Emiya turned to the droid in his lap, "I feel there is a story worth telling, here. Do you have a bone to pick with the Jedi?"

"Answer: Me? Not at all. I have yet to meet one of those so-called protectors of the Republic."

"Yet you hold them in contempt."

"Rebuttal: Who wouldn't? Any assassi— ahem, _specialized_ droid worth their oil would do the same. The Jedi are a bunch of pacifistic, dogmatic quacks who worship some invisible energy that supposedly permeates everything. If that's not delusional, I wonder what is…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Emiya said, "Hold on. Invisible energy? What's this about?"

"I believe the droid is referencing the Force," the guide said, "It is what the Jedi call this invisible energy. A force field that connects every living thing and inanimate object. It is supposedly present throughout the galaxy and is what allows the Jedi to perform feats beyond what a normal individual can achieve."

Emiya leaned back against his seat, eyes wide and fingers digging into HK's hull.

This was it. The Force. The invisible energy. The mana that he reached for yesterday. He felt the strings come together, slowly threading into a sparse tapestry; the beginning of an answer, taking root in his mind.

"You said their order is on Coruscant?" Emiya asked, suddenly leaning forward, "Do they have any other temples? Maybe an outpost somewhere close?"

The droid shook its head, "Their main temple is on Coruscant. The order used to operate many extensions throughout the galaxy, but most were abandoned following the previous war. Only a few remain, spread across the Colonies and Core worlds."

Emiya shook his head, "Then where are we? Where exactly is Tatooine?"

The image changed yet again, and moved away from the bright, civilized reliefs of Coruscant to the brash, scarred contours of a barren world, "Tatooine. One of three worlds of the Tatoo system. A barren, arid planet baking in the heat of its twin suns. This is where we are," the projection zoomed out of the planetary view and displayed a map of the entire galaxy again, highlighting a small section to the galactic south, "The Arkanis Sector, located at the southern frontier of the mid-rim."

Emiya fell back against his seat with a sigh. There went his hopes. Tatooine was to Coruscant what Tokyo was to Paris, on a galactic scale, where distances were measured in light years.

How many years of his life would he need to waste in order to get to the Jedi and inquire about his situation?

"This… this energy– this _**Force**_ , are there any other orders or religions in the galaxy associated with it?" Emiya asked.

Static distorted the image as the projected droid stood silent for a few seconds, "No. There are no other known entities or organizations with extensive knowledge of the Force."

That was dubious. That small pause told him there was something fishy, here. "Is that right? Are you sure? Perhaps a rival order to the Jedi? A dissident branch? Some obscure declination not recognized by the Republic? The Jedi couldn't possibly have a monopoly over the Force."

"None," The droid shook its head, "…None."

Emiya clicked his tongue and balled a fist, "You said the Jedi had to abandon their temples at the end of some war, who was it they fought against?"

"A separatist force intent on dividing the galaxy and taking the core worlds for itself," The droid answered, almost too quickly, "the conflict took place over a decade ago, helmed by a group of dissident Jedi drunk on ambition and power."

"A dissident group? Didn't you say there were none?" Emiya narrowed his eyes.

"…Dissident factions exist among the Jedi, but the instigators of the conflict are no more. The rebel movement was crushed by the Republic and a contingent of Jedi, and its lunatic leaders were dealt appropriate punishment."

Really, now? Was it censorship, or simply inaccurate data? Why was this thing swerving around the issue and avoiding the matter? Was the force such a dangerous topic that the Order and the Republic saw it fit to filter information concerning it?

"Forget it," Emiya waved a small hand, "Tell me more about this… Force."

"I'm afraid that is beyond my accreditations. Knowledge of the Force and its deeper facets is gated, and is only available to members of the Jedi Order and its affiliates," The droid tilted its head, "Are you perhaps a Jedi in training? If so, you may enter your credentials and access the data."

"Would I be asking all of these questions if I was?" Emiya sighed, brushing away strands of his hair.

"You have my sincere apologies for any misunderstandings and shortcomings, good sir."

"HK?" his fingers drummed over his biceps, "Do you know any more on the subject?"

"Answer: I have no knowledge of these things, Master. I'm afraid your guess is as good as mine."

"Aola?"

"H-huh?" She jumped, surprised. It seemed at some point her interest had wandered off as she had taken to busy herself with some items in her bag. "Uh, no?"

Emiya let out a long, aggravated sigh. It seemed the Jedi would be his only window into the mysteries of this so-called _**Force**_.

Oh, he could try and figure it out himself, but after what happened yesterday, he'd rather ask someone knowledgeable first, before diving into a dark, broiling ocean teeming with untold dangers.

"Alright," Emiya leaned back against his seat, "Suppose I'd like to get to Coruscant, how would I go about that?"

"Ah, space travel. I would recommend you visit the local authorities and consult them on the matter. Given your current coordinates, that would be, ah, the nearest bureau affiliated with Czerka Transports and Space Operations, located in the north-eastern quadrant of the Hollowport outpost."

Emiya shook his head. _Bureaucracy._

"However, given the distance and relative danger of common hyperspace lanes, plagued with pirate raids and smugglers, I'd estimate a one-way, one-person trip to Coruscant from a spaceport here on Tatooine to cost upwards of two thousand and nine hundred credits. Prices may vary depending on corporate rates and galactic taxes."

Aola gasped beside him, and HK muttered something about dead swindlers and soon-to-be-crisped corporates. Emiya simply palmed his face and shook his head.

Three thousand credits. Multiplied by two that's six thousand credits for both him and Aola to leave this parched rock. And that was only a first estimate.

Ridiculous.

But again, that was through the official channels. He had no doubt there were people out there who'd be more than willing to smuggle them away given appropriate compensation.

It wouldn't be safe, however. And it'd certainly not be cheap…

They spent the rest of their allotted time on the terminal, learning more about the galaxy and downloading what data they could onto the small memory chip they had purchased.

Information on the Jedi Order was sparse, however, only adding up to short summaries and contextless quotes, often highlighting the exploits of its members and laced with superlatives. That droid had even told them stories about people riding on suns and walking the skies. How ludicrous and hyperbolic could those stories be, he wondered?

By the time their three hours had expired, they had collected enough knowledge of the galaxy to last them for months of intensive study. Though he had no doubt he'd be doing most of the studying. It seemed Aola's interests lay elsewhere, if the way her head had fallen on his shoulder half way through the session was any indication.

They flipped the switch off and the projection died. They stood up and donned their cloaks, before they excited the information center and strode through the corridor that led outside.

Emiya's mind was a broiling mess of jumbled thoughts and unlikely theories. One thing was sure, however. He'd be spending most of the coming nights delving into the acquired data and perfecting his knowledge of the galaxy.

"Are you okay?" Aola asked with a slight tilt.

Emiya nodded, "I'm fine. I just… have a lot on my mind."

"Commentary: Understandable. Who could have thought the galaxy was such a hot-pot of colorful meatbags, huh?"

Emiya gave the droid a nudge through his bag, "You could have told me of the Jedi sooner."

"Answer: Why, I had no idea my Master would fixate on a bunch of space wizards. I never thought you'd be interested."

"Well, you stand corrected. I expect you to share whatever information you have in the future."

"Answer: But of course, Master. You can count on my infallible loyalty and dedication."

Emiya turned to the twi'lek, "Didn't you know about the Jedi?"

The girl shook her head, "We… lived in a remote village. We didn't really care what happened outside."

"I see..."

"But the elders used to tell us stories," she said, "about brave warriors fighting for justice and helping the Republic."

"I'm guessing those stories weren't exactly rich in detail?"

"Uhm," she shook her head, "They just pointed at the stars and the buried ships. They never said anything about the Jedi."

"Understandable," Emiya threw his hand in the air, "the stories they told you were probably rife with heresay and exaggerations. I wouldn't trust them as anything other than bedtime stories."

"Ah, I guess…" she scratched her cheek, "You think the stories about the Jedi were wrong?"

"Honestly?" Emiya raised an eyebrow, "I have no idea. I'd need to learn more and meet one of them before I can make any judgement."

He couldn't just paint them all with the same brush, after all. He was sure the order had its fair share of rotten apples sitting at the bottom of the basket, but that didn't mean the whole of the Jedi were a rancid bunch. Hopefully, he'd get to meet one of those space monks and—

 _ **Darkness,**_

 _ **Blood,**_

 _ **Screams.**_

Emiya froze in his tracks, hands immediately falling to his sides.

"Sweet, sweet little boy…" an indistinct voice whispered in his ear, cloying and overbearing, "Come to play with me, have you?"

All sound disappeared from his perception, and his vision tunneled before him. Emiya couldn't move. His limbs felt as if hogtied, and the lump in his throat clogged his voice.

The sound of footsteps dragged itself through his mind, like tiny echoes that grew into loud bangs and slithered their way behind him.

Aola's face appeared before his eyes. She took hold of his shoulders and shook him, concern obvious on her crumpled features.

Emiya ignored her, his focus solely on the footfalls slowly creeping up on his back.

He struggled against his restraints and slowly turned his head, his muscles screeching like blades in a steel grinder with a promise of later pain.

"Hello, little one," A woman crooned.

His eyes fell on the black-tighted legs that stopped a meter away, clinking long-heeled boots onto the concrete. He followed the sinews and lines of her curves, past her skirt and fitting blouse, past the crimson jewel dangling from her neck and the strange clouds swirling within, until his gaze slowly crawled up to her face.

A bewitching smile adorned pallid and slender lines set against pools of midnight silk. Ashen skin stared back from under the gaps of her prim uniform, and eyes of the darkest black glared back in barely disguised amusement.

A single bead of sweat travelled down Emiya's brow and settled in the nook of his eye.

The edges of her lips rose further.

"I've been looking for you…"

* * *

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the walls, joined by a chorus of cheers and grunts that made for quite the symphony.

She dodged to the left, and the blade grazed the skin on her shoulder before swerving away. She took a step back and raised her guard, eyes locked on the figure before her.

The woman stepped closer and planted a foot onto the padded floor. She swiveling on her free leg and sent a vigorous slash across her raised guard.

She gasped, the full weight of the blow too much for her to fully absorb.

Another blow made her falter, and she dodged to the right when a third threatened to bite into her side.

"Your guard is crumbling," her opponent said, a small smile across her lips.

The girl angled her body sideways and ran a sleeve across her forehead.

"Remember the code?" the woman said, before stepping in for another blow, "There is no emotion—

The girl slithered out of her reach and rolled away, "there is peace!"

"Good," the woman said, "there is no ignorance," she flourished her hand and sent a wave of energy towards the girl.

She pushed with a wave of her own, but staggered when her efforts were overpowered. "There is knowledge—

She barely dodged the blade that careened towards her and cut a line through her tunic, "Hey, that's not—

The swiveling blade came back around and shaved a few strands off her hair, "Not my hair!"

The troopers on the side laughed and she sent them a scowl, "What are you laughing at—

Another wave pushed against her.

"Your focus is lacking," the woman said, "there is no chaos,"

"T-There is harmony," the girl groaned. She held her vibrosword with both hands and squeezed the pommel. She focused on her feet and the space between her and her mother.

With a single push, she leaped upwards with a Force Jump and flipped upside-down. Her feet connected with the ceiling before she dove back down and put her weight behind her blade.

The woman smiled and simply raised her hand, halting the girl in her descent and suspending her in the air. "Showy, but ultimately fallible. I could have brought you down ten times over while you were busy flying."

The girl's brows twitched, her face set into a tantalized frown. Her limbs refused to move, and the padded floor a few meters below didn't look so soft anymore.

The troopers watching the show exploded in laughter, and she swore to give them a piece of her mind once she was out of her… predicament.

"See? You're only making an idiot out of yourself," the woman smiled, nodding her hand along and sending her daughter through a few sickening motions, "There is no death…"

The girl struggled, barely able to move her lips. "T-There is—

The stasis faded, and she plummeted towards the floor before stopping a mere inch away. She looked up toward her mother and mustered her best smile, "There is the Force?"

The woman shook her head and dispelled her technique, and the girl fell face first onto the padded steel.

Nomi Sunrider sighed, "Vima, where has your zeal gone? You've been out of it the entire morning."

The girl slowly pushed herself off the floor and rubbed her nose, leaning against her blade for support, "Zeal? I think you're the eager one, here. I could have broken an arm!"

Nomi shrugged, "The path of Knighthood is a harsh one."

Vima pouted and cradled her bruised arm as she took to her feet, "I thought force powers were off-limits…"

The woman put a hand to her temple and shook her head, "You _really_ are out of it, aren't you? I told you half-way through the duel that the rule had been lifted."

"Ah?" Vima scratched her cheek, "Maybe…"

"Don't move," Nomi stopped before her and reached for her shoulder, "let me look at this."

Vima looked away and shrugged, "It doesn't really hurt…."

"Nonsense," Nomi said. A bubble of bluish light swelled over her shoulder, filling her depleted reserves and healing the bruises. A few seconds later, the Jedi master stepped back and Vima tried her shoulder.

"Ready for another bout?" The older woman asked.

Vima turned to the vibrosword in her hand, "I… I think I've had enough. Maybe sometime later?"

Nomi raised an eyebrow, "That's not like you. Are you sure everything is alright? You do look a little pale…"

Vima waved her hand, "I'm okay. I just…" she turned to the floor and frowned, "Mom, can I ask you something?"

Nomi shook her head, "Now, this really isn't like you; since when do you ask for permission?"

"Last night…" Vima pushed the small button on the hilt and deactivated her sword, "I think I may have had a vision."

"I see…" the older Jedi put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to one of the benches. She slipped the blade out of her hand and put both of their training weapons away.

Vima took a seat and clasped her gloved hands over her lap. She tried to remember the full features of the dream she had experience just the night prior, but her recollections were murky and disjointed.

"Is it normal? Do Jedi get visions often?"

Nomi sat beside her and draped an arm over her shoulders. She gave her a good squeeze and ran a few fingers through her auburn hair, "Of course they do. Many Jedi experience a vision or two throughout their lives. It's one of the many gifts of the Force."

"Did you?"

"… I did. Just after…"

Vima glanced at her mother and noticed the lingering frown on her face. Pieces of a long-forgotten memory came to her mind and her eyebrows drooped when she remembered.

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—

"Shh," Her mother said, "It's okay. It's been a long time." She pulled her close and caressed her head, "I've had a few visions of my own. One during our trip to Ambria, and the others a few years later. Though one of those was more of a… manifestation of the force than a proper vision."

Vima laid a hand over her mother's, "What did you see?"

"I could hardly tell you," the woman nudged her cheek, "Most of what I saw has become a jumbled mess of weres and could-have-beens. A Jedi's vision usually comes as a guidance from the force, to steer them towards a certain resolution. It's a personal thing, and often ends up as nothing more than an inconsequential dream."

"And how is it different from a normal dream?" Vima asked.

"It's hard to describe," Nomi shook her head, "A Jedi simply knows when he or she has a vision. It's akin to intuition."

"Can… can it be ignored?"

"It really depends. Now, tell me, what did you see?"

Vima twiddled her fingers and looked away, at a small window that stared out into space. Should she tell her, or should she keep it a secret? She knew it couldn't possibly come true. It was too horrible of a foresight to even consider, yet she felt as if something had wormed itself into her heart, a disease that wouldn't leave her alone until she told someone about it…

"Well," she traced a finger over the fabric of her pants and drew the edges of a large flame.

Nomi rubbed her arm, "Hmm?"

Vima looked away, "I… I think I saw Coruscant burning…"

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

Well, I think I'm five weeks late on this delivery.

To all those who've been patiently waiting for this chapter, thank your for your patience and sorry for taking so long.

If you've bothered to check my profile in the past few weeks you may have noticed something about me running around and looking for a job. That was the primary reason for this delay, and it might continue on until I settle down and free up some time in my schedule.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you have any suggestion or remark, I welcome your reviews.

I even encourage you to throw me a PM if you want me to answer right away. I always notice those since I receive notifications on my Gmail and my phone buzzes whenever I receive a new mail.

To the kind folks over on patre(on), thank you! You know who you are :)

To those who wish to contribute or receive updates on future chapters, you can find me on **patre** ( **on** ) **dot** **com** slash **kylesentient**

Also, I feel like starting another story to keep me busy whenever Writer's Block hits. It may be a crossover between FSN and RWBY, featuring a grown-up Shirou as the main lead. Thoughts?

See you soon!


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